REESE  LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

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ARMAZINDY 


(goofl 


NEGHBORLY  POEMS 

SKETCHES  IN  PROSE  WITH  INTERLUDING  VERSES 

AFTERWHILES 

PIPES  O'  PAN  AT  ZEKESBURY  (Prose  and  Verse) 

RHYMES  OF  CHILDHOOD 

THE  FLYING  ISLANDS  OF  THE  NIGHT 

GREEN  FIELDS  AND  RUNNING  BROOKS 

ARMAZINDY 

A  CHILD-WORLD 

HOME-FOLKS 

HIS  PA'S  ROMANCE  (Portrait  by  Clay) 


GREENFIELD  EDITION 

Sold  only  in  sets.     Eleven  volumes  uniformly  bound  in  sage- 
green  cloth,  gilt  top , ., 5i3.5o 

The  same  in  half-calf 27.00 


OLD-FASHIONED  ROSES  (English  Edition) 
THE  GOLDEN  YEAR  (English  Edition) 

POEMS  HERE  AT  HOME 
RUBA'IYAT  OF  DOC  SIFERS 

THE  BOOK  OF  JOYOUS  CHILDREN  . 

RILEY  CHILD-RHYMES  (Pictures  by  Vawter* 
RILEY  LOVE-LYRICS   (Pictures  by  Dyer) 
RILEY  FARM-RHYMES  (Pictures  by  Vawter) 
RILEY  SONGS  O'  CHEER  (Pictures  by  Vawter) 
AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  OF  MINE  (Pictures  by  Christy) 
OUT  TO  OLD  AUNT  MARY'S  (Pictures  by  Christy) 
A  DEFECTIVE  SANTA  CLAUS  (Forty  Pictures  by  Relyea 
and  Vawter) 


ARMAZINDY 


JAMES  WHITCOMB  RILEY 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright  1894 

ty 

James  Wbitcomb  Riley 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,   N.  Y. 


fli 

ft  / 


TO 

HENRY  E1TEL 


(v) 


J 55573 


CONTENTS 

ARMAZINDY    ,....••«...  x 

BLIND  GIRL,  THE      .      . 21 

DREAMER.  SAY •••••  67 

EMPTY  GLOVE,  Alt*      •••••••••94 

FOR  THIS  CHRISTMAS    .*•••••••  27 

GOOD-BYE,  A     ,       .       .       •      ,       .......  32 

HE  AND  I        ...•••••«..  64 

How  DID  You  REST,  LAST  NIGHT?  ..•••..  31 

LITTLE  DAVID 60 

LITTLE  RED  RIBBON,  THE •      •      •      .  30 

MUSKINGUM  VALLEY,  THE    •••*••••  25 

MY  BRIDE  THAT  Is  To  BE         «••••••.  70 

MY  HENRY ••••'•  54 

NATURAL  PERVERSITIES            a      .......  14 

NOON  LULL,  A        ..»•••••••  52 

OLD  SCHOOL-CHUM,  THE        o      ..«••••  17 


viii  CONTENTS 


OLD-TIMER,  AN .....37 

OLD  TRUNDLE  BED,  THE xa 

OUR  OWN 76 

OUT  OF  THE  HlTHERWHERE 6l 

POOR  MAN'S  WEALTH,  A 28 

RABBIT  IN  THE  CROSS-TIES 62 

RINGWORM  FRANK 73 

SERENADE— To  NORA .63 

SILENT  VICTORS,  THE 39 

SONG  I  NEVER  SING,  THE 56 

THIS  DEAR  CHILD-HEARTED  WOMAN        .       .       .       ...  35 

THREE  SINGING  FRIENDS 50 

To  A  POET-CRITIC 36 

To  EDGAR  WILSON  NYE       ........  59 

UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDYWINB     .......  45 

WE  DEFER  THINGS 24 

WHAT  REDRESS  ...........66 

WHEN  LIDE  MARRIED  HIM     ........  68 

WHEM  MAIMIE  MARRIED 33 

WINDY  DAY,  A       .              53 

WRITIN'  BACK  TO  THE  HOME-FOLKS 19 


CONTENTS 


MAKE-BELIEVE  AND  CHILD-PLAY 

ALBUMANIA •      .      •      •  «6o 

BAREFOOT  BOY.  A      •      ••••••••  X3* 

CHARMS.— FOR  CORNS X47 

CIRCUS-PARADE,  THE •  x*° 

DOLORES .'•••••  "3 

ENVOY  * l69 

EROS .      .      .      .  «8 

FEW  OF  THE  BIRD-FAMILY.  A      ..•••••  149 

FOLKS  AT  LONESOMEVILLB        ...•••••     U* 

FROG.THB   ...••••••••        *9 

GREAT  EXPLORER,  THE    ..•••>•••** 

HOME-MADE  RIDDLES  ..•••••••       ^5 

IDYL  OF  THE  KINO,  AN  •      •      •     9* 

JARGON-JINGLE    ...  ...  »55 

KING  OF  THE  OO-RlNKTUM-JING,  THE  .        .        •  »53 

LEONAINIB    .      .       .       •      •      •      •      •      •      •      •  la8 

LITTLE  DOG-WOGGIE.  THE     ••••••••  "*5 

LITTLE  MOCK-MAN.  THE            •  l6a 

LOVELY  CHILD,  THE       ...••••••  ^ 

MY  MARY »      •      •  "5 


CONTENTS 


ORLIE  WILDE zzg 

PONCHUS  PlLUT 136 

SCHOOL-BOY'S  FAVORITE.  THE     .......  157 

SLUMBER-SONG •      •      .  xjg 

SUMMER-TIME  AND  WINTER-TIME  .......  1^4 

THREE  JOLLY  HUNTERS.  THE 143 

THROUGH  SLEEPY-LAND 150 

To  A  JILTED  SWAIN 130 

To  REMOVE  FRECKLES 148 

TOY  PENNY-DOG.  THE .  154 

TRESTLE  AND  THE  BUCK-SAW,  THE 152 

TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS .  81 

TWINTORETTB.  A     - 138 

VOICES.  THE 131 

WHEN  I  Do  MOCK               •      •      • m 

YELLOW-BIRO.  THE ies 

YOUTHFUL  PATRIOT.  THE      ••••••..  135 


ARMAZINDY 


(xiii) 


ARMAZINDY 


ARMAZINDY  ;—  fambily  name 
Ballenger,  —  you'll  find  the  same, 
As  her  daddy  answered  it, 
In  the  old  War-rlckords  yit,  — 
And,  like  him,  she's  airnt  the  good 
Will  o'  all  the  neighberhood.— 
Name  ain't  down  in  History,  — 
But,  i  jucks  !  it  ort  to  be  ! 
Folks  is  got  respec'  fer  her  — 
Armazindy  Ballenger!— 
'Specially  the  ones  'at  knows 
Fac's  o'  how  her  story  goes 
From  the  start:—  Her  father  blowed 
Up  —  eternally  furloughed  — 
When  the  old  "Sultana"  bu'st, 
And  sich  men  wuz  needed  wusst.  — 
Armazindy,  'bout  fourteen- 
Year-old  then  —  and  thin  and  lean 
As  a  kill-dee,  —  but  —  my  la!  — 
Blamedest  nerve  you  ever  saw! 
The  girl's  mother'd  allus  ben 
Sickly  —  wuz  consumpted  when 
Word  come  'bout  her  husband.  —  So 
Folks  perdicted  shid  soon  go  — 
CO 


ARMAZINDY 


(Kind  o'  grief  /  understand, 
Losin'  my  companion, — and 
Still  a  widower — and  still 
Hinted  at,  like  neighbers  will ! ) 
So,  appinted,  as  folks  said, 
Ballenger  a-bein'  dead, 
Widder,  'peared-like,  gradjully, 
Jes  grieved  after  him  tel  she 
Died,  nex'  Aprile  wuz  a  year, — 
And,  in  Armazindy's  keer 
Leavin*  the  two  twins,  as  well 
As  her  pore  old  miz'able 
Old-maid  aunty  'at  had  ben 
Struck  with  palsy,  and  wuz  then 
Jes  a  he'pless  charge  on  her — 
Arma^indy  Ballenger. 

Jewer  watch  a  primrose  *bout 
Minute  'fore  it  blossoms  out — 
Kindo'  loosen-like,  and  blow 
Up  its  muscles,  don't  you  know, 
And,  all  suddent,  bu'st  and  bloom 
Out  life-size  ?— Well,  I  persume 
'At's  the  only  measure  I 
Kin  size  Armazindy  by! — 
Jes  a  child,  one  minute, — nex', 
Woman-grown,  in  all  respec's 


ARMAZINDY 


And  intents  and  purposuz — 
'At's  what  Armazindy  wuz! 

Jes  a  child,  I  tell  ye !  Yit 
She  made  things  git  up  and  git 
Round  that  little  farm  o'  hern ! — 
Shouldered  all  the  whole  concern; — 
Feed  the  stock,  and  milk  the  cows — 
Run  the  farm  and  run  the  louse ! — 
Only  thing  she  didn't  do 
Wuz  to  plow  and  harvest  too — 
But  the  house  and  childern  took 
Lots  o'  keer— and  had  to  look 
After  her  old  fittified 
Grand-aunt. — Lord!  ye  could  a-cried, 
Seein'  Armazindy  smile, 
'Peared-like,  sweeter  all  the  while ! 
And  I've  heerd  her  laugh  and  say: — 
"  Jes  afore  Pap  marched  away, 
He  says  '  I  depend  on  you, 
Armazindy,  come  what  may — 
You  must  be  a  Soldier,  too ! » " 

Neighbers,  from  the  fust,  'ud  come — 
And  she'd  lei  'em  help  her  some, — 
"  Thanky,  maam  !  "  and  "  Thanky,  sir ! " 
But  no  charity  fer  her!— 


ARMAZINDY 


"  Sbe  could  raise  the  means  to  pay 
Per  her  farm-hands  ever'  day 
Sich  wuz  needed  ! " — And  she  could — 
In  cash-money  jes  as  good 
As  farm-produc's  ever  brung 
Their  perducer,  old  er  young  ! 
So  folks  humored  her  and  smiled, 
And  at  last  wuz  rickonciled 
Per  to  let  her  have  her  own 
Way  about  it— But  a-goin' 
Past  to  town,  they'd  stop  and  see 

"Armazindy's  fambily," 
As  they'd  allus  laugh  and  say, 
And  look  sorry  right  away, 
Thinkin'  of  her  Pap,  and  how 
He'd  indorse  his  "Soldier"  now! 

Course  she  couldn't  never  be 

Much  in  young  folks'  company — 

Plenty  of  w-vites  to  go, 

But  das't  leave  the  house,  you  know — 

'Less'n  Sundays  sometimes,  when 
Some  old  Granny  'd  come  and  'ten* 
Things,  while  Armazindy  1ms 
Got  away  fer  Church  er  "  Class." 
Most  the  youngsters  liked  her — and 

'Twuzn't  hard  to  understand, — 


ARMAZINDY 


Fer,  by  time  she  wuz  sixteen, 
Purtier  girl  you  never  seen — 
'Ceptin'  she  lacked  schooling  ner 
Couldn't  rag  out  stylisher — 
Like  some  neighber-g\T\st  ner  thumb 
On  their  blame  melodium, 
Whilse  their  pore  old  mothers  sloshed 
Round  the  old  back-porch  and  washed 
Their  clothes  fer  'em — rubbed  and  scrubbed 
Per  girls  M  ort  to  jes  ben  clubbed  1 

—And  jes  sich  a  girl  wuz  Jule 
Reddinhouse.— Shid  ben  to  school 
At  New  Thessaly,  i  gum ! — 
Fool  before,  but  that  hepped  some— 
'Stablished-like  more  confidence 
'At  she  never  had  no  sense. 
But  she  wuz  a  cunnin',  sly, 
Meek  and  lowly  sorto'  lie, 
'At  men-folks  like  me  and  you 
B'lieves  jes  'cause  we  ortn't  to.— 
Jes  as  purty  as  a  snake, 
And  as  pi^en— Mercy  sake ! 
Well,  about  them  times  it  wuz, 
Young  Sol  Stephens  th'ashed  fer  us; 
And  we  sent  him  over  to 
Armazindy's  place  to  do 


ARMAZINDY 


Her  work  fer  her.— And-sir !    Well-  - 
Mighty  little  else  to  tell,— 
Sol  he  fell  in  love  with  her— 
Armazindy  Ballenger! 

Bless  ye !— 'LI  of  all  the  love 
'At  I've  ever  yit  knowed  of, 
That-air  case  o'  theirn  beat  all ! 
W'y>  sne  worshiped  him  ! — And  Sol, 
'Peared-like,  could  a-kissed  the  sod 
(Sayin'  is)  where  that  girl  trod! 
Went  to  town,  she  did,  and  bought 
Lot  o'  things  'at  neighbers  thought 
Mighty  strange  fer  her  to  buy, — 
Raal  chintz  dress-goods — and  'way  high  ! 
Cut  long  in  the  skyrt, — also 
Gaiter-pair  o'  shoes,  you  know  ; 
And  lace  collar ; — yes,  and  fine 
Stylish  hat,  with  ivy-vine 
And  red  ribbons,  and  these-'ere 
Artificial  flowers  and  queer 
Little  beads  and  spangles,  and 
Oysturch-feathers  round  the  band  ! 
Wore  'em,  Sund'ys,  fer  awhile— 
Kindo'  went  to  church  in  style, 
Sol  and  Armazindy! — Tel 
It  was  noised  round  purty  well 


ARMAZINDY 


They  wuz  promised.— And  they  wuz— 
Sich  news  travels— well  it  does!— 
Pity  'at  that  did!— Per  jes 
That-air  fac'  and  nothin*  less 
Must  a-putt  it  in  the  mind 
O'  Jule  Reddinhouse  to  find 
Out  some  dratted  way  to  hatch 
Out  some  plan  to  break  the  match— 
'Cause  she  done  \^—Ho-w?  they's  nona 
Knows  adzac'ly  -what  she  done; 
Some  claims  she  writ  letters  to 
Sol  s  folks,  up  nigh  Pleasant  View 
Somers — and  described,  you  see, 
"Armazlndy's  fambily"— 
Hintin*  c'ef  Sol  married  her. 
He  d  jes  be  pervidin'  fer 
Them-air  twins  o'  hern,  and  old 
Palsied  aunt  'at  couldn't  hold 
Spoon  to  mouth,  and  layin*  near 
Bedrid  on  to  eighteen  year, 
And  still  likely,  'pearantly, 
To  Jive  out  the  century!" 
Well— whatever  plan  Jule  laid 
Out  to  reach  the  pint  she  made. 
It  wuz  desfeSt— And  she  won 
Finully.  by  marryun' 


ARMAZINDY 


Sol  herse'f— e-lopin\  too, 
With  him,  like  she  bad  to  do,— 
'Cause  her  folks  'ud  allus  swore 
"Jule  should  never  marry  poreJ" 

This-here  part  the  story  1 

Allus  haf  to  hurry  by,— 

Way  'at  Armazindy  jes 

Drapped  back  in  her  linsey  dress, 

And  grabbed  holt  her  loom,  and  shet 

Her  jaws  square. — And  ef  she  fret 

Any  'bout  it — never  'peared 

Sign  'at  neighbers  seed  er  heerd ; — 

Most  folks  liked  her  all  the  more— 

I  know  /  did — certain-shore ! — 

(Course  Vd  knowed  her  Pap,  and  what 
Stock  she  come  of. — Yes,  and  thought, 
And  think  yit,  no  man  on  earth 

'S  worth  as  much  as  that  girl's  worth !) 

As  fer  Jule  and  Sol,  they  had 
Their  sheer!— less  o'  good  than  bad!— 
Her  folks  let  her  go.— They  said, 
"Spite  o'  them  she'd  made  her  bed 
And  must  sleep  in  it !  " — But  she, 
'Peared-like,  didn't  sleep  so  free 
As  she  ust  to — ner  so  late* 
Ner  so  /*«<?,  I'm  here  to  state! — 


ARMAZWDY 


Sol  wuz  pore,  of  course,  and  she 
Wuzn't  ust  to  poverty — 
Ner  she  didn't  'pear  to  jes 
'Filiate  with  lonesomeness, — 
'Cause  Sol  he  wuz  off  and  out 
With  his  th'asher  nigh  about 
Half  the  time ;  er,  season  done, 
He'd  be  off  mi-anderun 
Round  the  country,  here  and  there, 
Swoppin'  hosses.    Well,  that-air 
Kindo'  livin'  didn't  suit 
Jule  a  bit! — and  then,  to  boot, 
She  had  now  the  keer  o'  two 
Her  own  childern — and  to  do 
Her  own  work  and  cookin' — yes, 
And  sometimes  fer  hands,  I  guess, 
Well  as  fambily  of  her  own. — 
Cut  her  pride  clean  to  the  bone! 
So  how  could  the  whole  thing  end? — 
She  set  down,  one  night,  and  penned 
A  short  note,  like— 'at  she  sewed 
On  the  childern's  blanket— blowed 
Out  the  candle— pulled  the  door 
To  close  after  her— and,  shore- 
Footed  as  a  cat  is,  dumb 
In  a  rigg  there  and  left  home, 


10  ARMAZINDY 


With  a  man  a-drivin'  who 
"Loved  her  ever  fond  and  true," 
As  her  note  went  on  to  say, 
When  Sol  read  the  thing  next  day. 

Really  didn't  'pear  to  be 
Extry  waste  o'  sympathy 
Over  Sol— pore  feller!— Yit, 
Sake  o'  them-air  little  bit 
O'  two  orphants — as  you  might 
Call  'em  then,  by  law  and  right, — 
Sol's  old  friends  wuz  sorry,  and 
Tried  to  hold  him  out  their  hand 
Same  as  allus:     But  he'd  flinch — 
Tel,  jes  'peared  like,  inch  by  inch, 
He  let  all  holts  go;  and  so 
Took  to  drinkin',  don't  you  know,—1 
Tel,  to  make  a  long  tale  short, 
He  wuz  fuller  than  he  ort 
To  a-ben,  at  work  one  day 
'Bout  his  th'asher,  and  give  way, 
Kindo'-like,  and  fell  and  ketched 
In  the  beltin'. 

Rid  and  fetched 

Armazindy  to  him. — He 
Begged  me  to.— But  time  'at  she 
Reached  his  side,  he  smiled  and  tried 
To  speak— Couldn't.    So  he  died 


ARMAZWDY  II 


Hands  all  turned  and  left  her  there 
And  went  somers  else — somewhere. 
Last,  she  called  us  back — in  clear 
Voice  as  man'll  ever  hear- 
Clear  and  stiddy,  'peared  to  me, 
As  her  old  Pap's  ust  to  be.— 
Give  us  orders  what  to  do 
'Bout  the  body— hepped  us,  too. 
So  it  wuz,  Sol  Stephens  passed 
>N  Armazindy's  hands  at  last. 
More'n  that,  she  claimed  'at  she 
Had  consent  from  him  to  be 
Mother  to  his  childern— now 
'Thout  no  parents  anyhow. 

Yes-sir!  and  she's  got  'em,  too,— 
Folks  saw  nothin'  else  'ud  do — 
So  they  let  her  have  her  way — 
Like  she's  doin'  yit  to-day ! 
Years  now,  I've  ben  coaxin7  her— 
Armazindy  Ballenger — 
To  in-large  her  fambily 
Jes  one  more  by  takin*  me — 
Which  I'm  feared  she  never  will, 
Though  I'm  lectioneerin'  still. 


12  THE  OLD  TRUNDLE-BED 


THE   OLD   TRUNDLE-BED 

O  THE  old  trundle-bed  where  f  slept  when  a  boy! 

What  canopied  king  might  not  covet  the  joy? 

The  glory  and  peace  of  that  slumber  of  mine, 

Like  a  long,  gracious  rest  in  the  bosom  divine: 

The  quaint,  homely  couch,  hidden  close  from  the  light, 

But  daintily  drawn  from  its  hiding  at  night. 

O  a  nest  of  delight,  from  the  foot  to  the  head, 

Was  the  queer  little,  dear  little,  old  trundle-bed ! 

O  the  old  trundle-bed,  where  I  wondering  saw 

The  stars  through  the  window,  and  listened  with  awe 

To  the  sigh  of  the  winds  as  they  tremblingly  crept 

Through  the  trees  where  the  robin  so  restlessly  slept: 

Where  I  heard  the  low,  murmurous  chirp  of  the  wren, 

And  the  katydid  listlessly  chirrup  again, 

Till  my  fancies  grew  faint  and  were  drowsily  led 

Through  the  maze  of  the  dreams  of  the  old  trundle-bed. 

O  the  old  trundle-bed !    O  the  old  trundle-bed ! 
With  its  plump  little  pillow,  and  old-fashioned  spread ; 
Its  snowy-white  sheets,  and  the  blankets  above, 
Smoothed  down  and  tucked  round  with  the  touches  of 
love ; 


THE  OLD  TRUNDLE-BED  13 

The  voice  of  my  mother  to  lull  me  to  sleep 
With  the  old  fairy-stories  my  memories  keep 
Still  fresh  as  the  lilies  that  bloom  o'er  the  head 
Once  bowed  o'er  my  own  in  the  old  trundle-bed. 


14  NATURAL  PERVERSITIES 


NATURAL  PERVERSITIES 

I  AM  not  prone  to  moralize 

In  scientific  doubt 
On  certain  facts  that  Nature  tries 

To  puzzle  us  about, — 
For  I  am  no  philosopher 

Of  wise  elucidation, 
But  speak  of  things  as  they  occur, 

From  simple  observation. 

1  notice  little  things— to  wit:— 

1  never  missed  a  train 
Because  I  didn't  run  for  it; 

I  never  knew  it  rain 
That  my  umbrella  wasn't  lent,— 

Or,  when  in  my  possession, 
The  sun  but  wore,  to  all  intent, 

A  jocular  expression. 

I  never  knew  a  creditor 

To  dun  me  for  a  debt 
But  I  was  "cramped"  or  "busted";  or 

I  never  knew  one  yet, 
When  I  had  plenty  in  my  purse, 

To  make  the  least  invasion, — 
As  I,  accordingly  perverse, 

Have  courted  no  occasion. 


NATURAL  PERVERSITIES  15 

Nor  do  I  claim  to  comprehend 

What  Nature  has  in  view 
In  giving  us  the  very  friend 

To  trust  we  oughtn't  to. — 
But  so  it  is :    The  trusty  gun 

Disastrously  exploded 
Is  always  sure  to  be  the  one 

We  didn't  think  was  loaded. 

Our  moaning  is  another's  mirth, — 

And  what  is  worse  by  half, 
We  say  the  funniest  thing  on  earth 

And  never  raise  a  laugh : 
Mid  friends  that  love  us  overwell, 

And  sparkling  jests  and  liquor, 
Our  hearts  somehow  are  liable 

To  melt  in  tears  the  quicker. 

We  reach  the  wrong  when  most  we  seek 
The  right;  in  like  effect, 

We  stay  the  strong  and  not  the  weak- 
Do  most  when  we  neglect— 

Neglected  genius— truth  be  said— 
As  wild  and  quick  as  tinder, 

The  more  you  seek  to  help  ahead 
The  more  you  seem  to  hinder. 


16  NATURAL  PERVERSITIES 

I've  known  the  least  the  greatest,  too — 

And,  on  the  selfsame  plan, 
The  biggest  fool  I  ever  knew 

Was  quite  a  little  man : 
We  find  we  ought,  and  then  we  won't — 

We  prove  a  thing,  then  doubt  it, — 
Know  everything  but  when  we  don't 

Know  anything  about  it 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-CHUM  i/ 


THE  OLD  SCHOOL-CHUM 

HE  puts  the  poem  by,  to  say 

His  eyes  are  not  themselves  to-day! 

A  sudden  glamour  o'er  his  sight— 
A  something  vague,  indefinite— 
An  oft-recurring  blur  that  blinds 
The  printed  meaning  of  the  lines, 

And  leaves  the  mind  all  dusk  and  dim 
In  swimming  darkness— strange  to  him! 

It  is  not  childishness,  I  guess,— 
Yet  something  of  the  tenderness 

That  used  to  wet  his  lashes  when 
A  boy  seems  troubling  him  again ; — 

The  old  emotion,  sweet  and  wild, 
That  drove  him  truant  when  a  child, 

That  he  might  hide  the  tears  that  fell 
Above  the  lesson— "  Little  Nell." 

And  so  it  is  he  puts  aside 
The  poem  he  has  vainly  tried 


18  THE  OLD  SCHOOL-CHUM 

To  follow;  and,  as  one  who  sighs 
In  failure,  through  a  poor  disguise 

Of  smiles,  he  dries  his  tears,  to  say 
His  eyes  are  not  themselves  to-day. 


WRITIN'  BACK  TO  THE  HOME-FOLKS  19 


WRITIN'  BACK  TO  THE  HOME-FOLKS 

MY  dear  old  friends— It  jes  beats  all, 

The  way  you  write  a  letter 
So's  ever*  last  line  beats  the  first, 

And  ever'  «<?x/-un's  better! — 
W'y,  ever'  fool-thing  you  putt  down 

You  make  so  intern/in', 
A  feller,  readin'  of  em  all, 

Can't  tell  which  is  the  best-un. 

It's  all  so  comfortin'  and  good, 

'Pears-like  I  almost  hear  ye 
And  git  more  sociabler,  you  know, 

And  hitch  my  cheer  up  near  ye 
And  jes  smile  on  ye  like  the  sun 

Acrosst  the  whole  per-rairies 
In  Aprile  when  the  thaw's  begun 

And  country  couples  marries. 

It's  all  so  good-old-fashioned  like 

To  talk  jes  like  we're  thinking 
Without  no  hidin'  back  o'  fans 

And  giggle-un  and  winkin', 
Ner  sizin'  how  each-other's  dressed— 

Like  some  is  allus  doin',— 
"  Is  Marthy  Ellen's  basque  ben  turned 

Er  shore-enough  a  new-un  !  " — 


20  WRITIW  BACK  TO  THE  HOME-FOLKS 

Er  "ef  Steve's  city-friend  haint  jes 

'A  tetle  kindo'-sorto'  "— 
Er  "wears  them-air  blame  eye-glasses 

Jes  'cause  he  hadn't  ort  to?"— 
And  so  straight  on,  dad-libtium, 

Tel  all  of  us  feels,  someway, 
Jes  like  our  "comp'ny"  wuz  the  best 

When  we  git  up  to  come  'way! 

That's  why  I  like  old  friends  like  you,— 

Jes  'cause  you're  so  dbidirf. — 
Ef  I  was  built  to  live  "fer  keeps," 

My  principul  residin* 
Would  be  amongst  the  folks  'at  kep* 

Me  allus  tbinkin1  of  'em, 
And  sorto'  eechin'  all  the  time 

To  tell  'em  how  I  love  'em. — 

Sich  folks,  you  know,  I  jes  love  so 

I  wouldn't  live  without  'em, 
Er  couldn't  even  drap  asleep 

But  what  I  dreamp*  about  'em, — 
And  ef  we  minded  God,  I  guess 

We'd  all  love  one-another 
Jes  like  one  fam'bly, — me  and  Pap 

And  Madaline  and  Mother. 


THE  BLIND  GIRL  21 


THE  BLIND  GIRL 

IF  1  might  see  his  face  to-day! — 
He  is  so  happy  now!— To  hear 
His  laugh  is  like  a  roundelay— 

So  ringing-sweet  and  clear! 
His  step— I  heard  it  long  before 
He  bounded  through  the  open  door 
To  tell  his  marriage.— Ah !  so  kind— 
So  good  he  is!— And  I— so  blind! 

But  thus  he  always  came  to  me— 
Me,  first  of  all,  he  used  to  bring 
His  sorrow  to— his  ecstasy— 
His  hopes  and  everything; 
And  if  I  joyed  with  him  or  wept, 
It  was  not  long  the  music  slept,— 
And  if  he  sung,  or  if  I  played— 
Or  both, — we  were  the  braver  made. 

I  grew  to  know  and  understand 

His  every  word  at  every  call, — 
The  gate-latch  hinted,  and  his  hand 

In  mine  confessed  it  all : 
He  need  not  speak  one  word  to  me — 
He  need  not  sigh— I  need  not  see,— 
But  just  the  one  touch  of  his  palm, 
And  I  would  answer— song  or  psalm. 


22  THE  BLIND  GIRL 

He  wanted  recognition — name — 

He  hungered  so  for  higher  things, — 
The  altitudes  of  power  and  fame, 

And  all  that  fortune  brings: 
Till,  with  his  great  heart  fevered  thus, 
And  aching  as  impetuous, 
I  almost  wished  sometimes  that  be 
Were  blind  and  patient  made,  like  me. 

But  he  has  won !— I  knew  he  would.— 

Once  in  the  mighty  Eastern  mart, 
I  knew  his  music  only  could 

Be  sung  in  every  heart! 
And  when  he  proudly  sent  me  this 
From  out  the  great  metropolis, 
I  bent  above  the  graven  score 
And,  weeping,  kissed  it  o'er  and  o'er.- 

And  yet  not  blither  sing  the  birds 

Than  this  glad  melody, — the  tune 
As  sweetly  wedded  with  the  words 

As  flowers  with  middle-June; 
Had  he  not  told  me,  I  had  known 
It  was  composed  of  love  alone — 
His  love  for  her. — And  she  can  see 
His  happy  face  eternally! — 


THE  BLIND  GIRL  23 


While  /— O  God,  forgive,  I  pray!— 

Forgive  me  that  I  did  so  long 
To  look  upon  his  face  to-day!— 

I  know  the  wish  was  wrong. — 
Yea,  I  am  thankful  that  my  sight 
Is  shielded  safe  from  such  delight:— 
I  can  pray  better,  with  this  blur 
Of  blindness— both  for  him  and  her. 


24  WE  DEFER  THINGS 


WE  DEFER  THINGS 

WE  say  and  we  say  and  we  say, 
We  promise,  engage  and  declare, 

Till  a  year  from  tomorrow  is  yesterday, 
And  yesterday  is— Where? 


THE  MUSKINGUM  VALLEY  25 

THE   MUSKINGUM  VALLEY 

THE  Muskingum  Valley !— How  longin'  the  gaze 

A  feller  throws  back  on  its  long  summer-days, 

When  the  smiles  of  its  blossoms  and  my  smiles  wuz  one- 

And-the-same,  from  the  rise  to  the  set  o'  the  sun  : 

Wher'  the  hills  sloped  as  soft  as  the  dawn  down  to  noon, 

And  the  river  run  by  like  an  old  fiddle-tune, 

And  the  hours  glided  past  as  the  bubbles  'ud  glide, 

All  so  loaferin'-like,  'long  the  path  o'  the  tide. 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley— it  'peared  like  the  skies 
Looked  lovin'  on  me  as  my  own  mother's  eyes, 
While  the  laughin'-sad  song  of  the  stream  seemed  to  be 
Like  a  lullaby  angels  was  wastin'  on  me — 
Tel,  swimmin*  the  air,  like  the  gossamer's  thread, 
'Twixt  the  blue  underneath  and  the  blue  overhead, 
My  thoughts  went  a-stray  in  that  so-to-speak  realm 
Wher'  Sleep  bared  her  breast  as  a  piller  fer  them. 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley,  though  far,  far  a-way, 
I  know  that  the  winter  is  bleak  there  to-day- 
No  bloom  ner  perfume  on  the  brambles  er  trees— 
Wher'  the  buds  used  to  bloom,  now  the  icicles  freeze.- 
That  the  grass  is  all  hid  'long  the  side  of  the  road 
Wher'  the  deep  snow  has  drifted  and  shifted  and  blowed— 
And  I  feel  in  my  life  the  same  changes  is  there,— 
The  frost  in  my  heart,  and  the  snow  in  my  hair. 


26  THE  MUSKINGUM  V 'ALLEY 

But,  Muskingum  Valley !  my  memory  sees 

Not  the  white  on  the  ground,  but  the  green  in  the  trees — 

Not  the  froze'-over  gorge,  but  the  current,  as  clear 

And  warm  as  the  drop  that  has  jes  trickled  here ; 

Not  the  choked-up  ravine,  and  the  hills  topped  with  snow, 

But  the  grass  and  the  blossoms  I  knowed  long  ago 

When  my  little  bare  feet  wundered  down  wher'  the  stream 

In  the  Muskingum  Valley  flowed  on  like  a  dream. 


FOR  THIS  CHRISTMAS  27 


FOR  THIS  CHRISTMAS 

YE  old-time  stave  that  pealeth  out 

To  Christmas  revelers  all, 
At  tavern-tap  and  wassail  bout, 

And  in  ye  banquet  hall.- 
Whiles  ye  old  burden  rings  again, 

Add  yet  ye  verse,  as  due: 
Cod  bless  you,  merry  gentlemen  " — 

<And  gentlewomen,  too! 


28  A  POOR  MAN'S  WEALTH 


A  POOR    MAN'S  WEALTH 

A  POOR  man?    Yes,  I  must  confess- 
No  wealth  of  gold  do  I  possess; 
No  pastures  fine,  with  grazing  kine, 
Nor  fields  of  waving  grain  are  mine; 
No  foot  of  fat  or  fallow  land 
Where  rightfully  my  feet  may  stand 
The  while  I  claim  it  as  my  own- 
By  deed  and  title,  mine  alone. 

Ah,  poor  indeed !  perhaps  you  say — 
But  spare  me  your  compassion,  pray!— 
When  I  ride  not— with  you — I  walk 
In  Nature's  company,  and  talk 
With  one  who  will  not  slight  or  slur 
The  child  forever  dear  to  her— 
And  one  who  answers  back,  be  sure, 
With  smile  for  smile,  though  I  am  poor. 

And  while  communing  thus,  I  count 
An  inner  wealth  of  large  amount, — 
The  wealth  of  honest  purpose  blent 
With  Penury's  environment,— 
The  wealth  of  owing  naught  to-day 
But  debts  that  I  would  gladly  pay, 
With  wealth  of  thanks  still  unexpressed 
With  cumulative  interest. — 


A  POOR  MAWS  WEALTH  20 

A  wealth  of  patience  and  content — 
For  all  my  ways  improvident ; 
A  faith  still  fondly  exercised — 
For  all  my  plans  unrealized ; 
A  wealth  of  promises  that  still, 
Howe'er  I  fail,  I  hope  to  fill ; 
A  wealth  of  charity  for  those 
Who  pity  me  my  ragged  clothes. 

A  poor  man?    Yes,  I  must  confess— 
No  wealth  of  gold  do  I  possess ; 
No  pastures  fine,  with  grazing  kine, 
Nor  fields  of  waving  grain  are  mine; 
But  ah,  my  friend !  I've  wealth,  no  end  I 
For  millionaires  might  condescend 
To  bend  the  knee  and  envy  me 
This  opulence  of  poverty. 


THE  LITTLE  RED  RIBBON 


THE  LITTLE  RED  RIBBON 

THE  little  red  ribbon,  the  ring  and  the  rose! 

The  summertime  comes,  and  the  summertime  goes— 

And  never  a  blossom  in  all  of  the  land 

As  white  as  the  gleam  of  her  beckoning  hand ! 

The  long  winter  months,  and  the  glare  of  the  snows ; 
The  little  red  ribbon,  the  ring  and  the  rose ! 
And  never  a  glimmer  of  sun  in  the  skies 
As  bright  as  the  light  of  her  glorious  eyes ! 

Dreams  only  are  true ;  but  they  fade  and  are  gone — 
For  her  face  is  not  here  when  I  waken  at  dawn ; 
The  little  red  ribbon,  the  ring  and  the  rose 
Mine  only ;  bers  only  the  dream  and  repose. 

I  am  weary  of  waiting,  and  weary  of  tears, 
And  my  heart  wearies,  too,  all  these  desolate  years, 
Moaning  over  the  one  only  song  that  it  knows, — 
The  little  red  ribbon,  the  ring  and  the  rose ! 


"HOW  DID  YOU  REST,  LAST  NIGHT?" 

"HOW  DID  YOU  REST,  LAST  .NIGHT?" 

"HOW  did  you  rest,  last  night?"— 

I've  heard  my  gran 'pap  say 
Them  words  a  thousand  times— that's  right— 

Jes  them  words  thataway! 
As  punctchul-like  as  morning  dast 

To  ever  heave  in  sight 
Gran 'pap  'ud  allus  haf  to  ast— 
"How  did  you  rest,  last  night?" 

Us  young-uns  used  to  grin, 

At  breakfast,  on  the  sly, 
And  mock  the  wobble  of  his  chin 

And  eyebrows  helt  so  high 
And  kind:     "How  did  you  rest,  last  night?'1 

We'd  mumble  and  let  on 
Our  voices  trimbled,  and  our  sight 

Was  dim,  and  hearin'  gone. 
********** 
Bad  as  I  used  to  be, 

All  I'm  a-wantin'  is 
As  puore  and  ca'm  a  sleep  fer  me 

And  sweet  a  sleep  as  his ! 
And  so  I  pray,  on  Jedgment  Day 

To  wake,  and  with  its  light 
See  his  face  dawn,  and  hear  him  say— 
"How  did  you  rest,  last  night?" 


32  A  GOOD-BYE 


A  GOOD-BYE 

"GOOD-BYE,  my  friend!" 

He  takes  her  hand — 
The  pressures  blend: 
They  understand 

But  vaguely  why,  with  drooping  eye, 
Each  moans—"  Good-bye !  —  Good-bye : 

"Dear  friend,  good-bye  1 " 

0  she  could  smile 
If  she  might  cry 

A  little  while!  — 

She  says,  "  I  ought  to  smile— but  I- 
Forgive  me — There ! — Good-bye  I  " 

"' Good-bye?'    Ah,  no: 

1  hate,"  says  he, 

"  These  *  good-byes '  so  !  " 
"And  /,"  says  she, 

"Detest  them  so— why,  I  should  dt» 
Were  this  a  real  '  good-bye ! '  " 


WHEN  MAIMIE  MARRIED  33 


WHEN  MAIMIE  MARRIED 

WHEN  Maimie  married  Charley  Brown, 

Joy  took  possession  of  the  town  ; 

The  young  folks  swarmed  in  happy  throngs— 

They  rang  the  bells— they  caroled  songs— 

They  carpeted  the  steps  that  led 

Into  the  church  where  they  were  wed ; 

And  up  and  down  the  altar-stair 

They  scattered  roses  everywhere; 

When,  in  her  orange-blossom  crown, 

Queen  Maimie  married  Charley  Brown. 

So  beautiful  she  was,  it  seemed 
Men,  looking  on  her,  dreamed  they  dreamed ; 
And  he,  the  holy  man  who  took 
Her  hand  in  his,  so  thrilled  and  shook, 
The  gargoyles  round  the  ceiling's  rim 
Looked  down  and  leered  and  grinned  at  him 
Until  he  half  forgot  his  part 
Of  sanctity,  and  felt  his  heart 
Beat  worldward  through  his  sacred  gown- 
When  Maimie  married  Charley  Brown. 

The  bridesmaids  kissed  her,  left  and  right — 
Fond  mothers  hugged  her  with  delight — 
Young  men  of  twenty-seven  were  seen 
To  blush  like  lads  of  seventeen, 


34  WHEN  MAIMIE  MARRIED 

The  while  they  held  her  hand  to  quote 
Such  sentiments  as  poets  wrote.— 
Yea,  all  the  heads  that  Homage  bends 
Were  bowed  to  her— But  O  my  friends, 
My  hopes  went  up — my  heart  went  down- 
When  Maimie  married— Charley  Brown  ! 


THIS  DEAR  CHILD-HEARTED  WOMAN"       35 


"THIS  DEAR  CHILD-HEARTED  WOMAN  THAT 
IS   DEAD" 

I 
THIS  woman,  with  the  dear  child-heart, 

Ye  mourn  as  dead,  is — where  and  what? 
With  faith  as  artless  as  her  Art, 

I  question  not, — 

But  dare  divine,  and  feel,  and  know 
Her  blessedness — as  hath  been  writ 
In  allegory. — Even  so 

I  fashion  it: — 

II 

A  stately  figure,  rapt  and  awed 

In  her  new  guise  of  Angelhood, 
Still  lingered,  wistful — knowing  God 

Was  very  good.— 

Her  thought's  fine  whisper  filled  the  paw. 

And,  listening,  the  Master  smiled, 
And  lo!  the  stately  angel  was 

—A  little  child, 


36  TO  A  POET-CRITIC 


TO  A  POET-CRITIC 

YES, — the  bee  sings — I  confess  it — 
Sweet  as  honey — Heaven  bless  it!— 
Yit  he'd  be  a  sweeter  singer 
Ef  he  didn't  have  no  stinger. 


AN  OLD-TIMER  37 


AN  OLD-TIMER 

HERE  where  the  wayward  stream 
Is  restful  as  a  dream, 

And  where  the  banks  o'erlook 
A  pool  from  out  whose  deeps 
My  pleased  face  upward  peeps, 
I  cast  my  hook. 

Silence  and  sunshine  blent! — 
A  Sabbath-like  content 

Of  wood  and  wave  ; — a  free- 
Hand  landscape  grandly  wrought 
Of  Summer's  brightest  thought 
And  mastery. — 

For  here  form,  light  and  shade, 
And  color— all  are  laid 

With  skill  so  rarely  fine, 
The  eye  may  even  see 
The  ripple  tremblingly 

Lip  at  the  line. 

I  mark  the  dragonfly 
Flit  waveringly  by 
In  ever- veering  flight, 


38  AN  OLD-TIMER 


Till,  in  a  hush  profound, 
I  see  him  eddy  round 

The  "  cork  "and— 'light! 

Ho !  with  the  boy's  faith  then 
Brimming  my  heart  again, 

And  knowing,  soon  or  late, 
The  "nibble"  yet  shall  roll 
Its  thrills  along  the  pole, 

I— breathless— wait. 


THE  SILENT  VICTORS  39 


THE  SILENT  VICTORS 
MAY  30,  1878 

"  Dying  for  victory,  cheer  on  cheer 
Thundered  on  his  eager  ear." 

—CHARLES  L.  HOLSTEIN 

I 

DEEP,  tender,  firm  and  true,  the  Nation's  heart 
Throbs  for  her  gallant  heroes  passed  away, 

Who  in  grim  Battle's  drama  played  their  part, 
And  slumber  here  today.— 

Warm  hearts  that  beat  their  lives  out  at  the  shrine 
Of  Freedom,  while  our  country  held  its  breath 

As  brave  battalions  wheeled  themselves  in  line 
And  marched  upon  their  death: 

When  Freedom's  Flag,  its  natal  wounds  scarce  healed, 
Was  torn  from  peaceful  winds  and  flung  again 

To  shudder  in  the  storm  of  battle-field — 
The  elements  of  men, — 

When  every  star  that  glittered  was  a  mark 
For  Treason's  ball,  and  every  rippling  bar 

Of  red  and  white  was  sullied  with  the  dark 
And  purple  stain  of  war: 


40  THE  SILENT  VICTORS 

When  angry  guns,  like  famished  beasts  of  prey, 
Were  howling  o'er  their  gory  feast  of  lives, 

And  sending  dismal  echoes  far  away 
To  mothers,  maids,  and  wives:— 

The  mother,  kneeling  in  the  empty  night, 
With  pleading  hands  uplifted  for  the  son 

Who,  even  as  she  prayed,  had  fought  the  fight— 
The  victory  had  won : 

The  wife,  with  trembling  hand  that  wrote  to  say 
The  babe  was  waiting  for  the  sire's  caress— 

The  letter  meeting  that  upon  the  way,— 
The  babe  was  fatherless : 

The  maiden,  with  her  lips,  in  fancy,  pressed 
Against  the  brow  once  dewy  with  her  breath, 

Now  lying  numb,  unknown,  and  uncaressed 
Save  by  the  dews  of  death . 

II 

What  meed  of  tribute  can  the  poet  pay 
The  Soldier,  but  to  trail  the  ivy-vine 

Of  idle  rhyme  above  his  grave  today 
In  epitaph  design? — 

Or  wreathe  with  laurel-words  the  icy  brows 
That  ache  no  longer  with  a  dream  of  fame, 

But,  pillowed  lowly  in  the  narrow  house, 
Renown'd  beyond  the  name. 


THE  SILENT  VICTORS  41 

The  dewy  teardrops  of  the  night  may  fall, 
And  tender  morning  with  her  shining  hand 

May  brush  them  from  the  grasses  green  and  tall 
That  undulate  the  land. — 

Yet  song  of  Peace  nor  din  of  toil  and  thrift, 
Nor  chanted  honors,  with  the  flowers  we  heap, 

Can  yield  us  hope  the  Hero's  head  to  lift 
Out  of  its  dreamless  sleep : 

The  dear  old  flag,  whose  faintest  flutter  flies 
A  stirring  echo  through  each  patriot  breast, 

Can  never  coax  to  life  the  folded  eyes 
That  saw  its  wrongs  redressed — 

That  watched  it  waver  when  the  fight  was  hot, 
And  blazed  with  newer  courage  to  its  aid, 

Regardless  of  the  shower  of  shell  and  shot 
Through  which  the  charge  was  made  ;— 

And  when,  at  last,  they  saw  it  plume  its  wings, 
Like  some  proud  bird  in  stormy  element, 

And  soar  untrammeled  on  its  wanderings, 
They  closed  in  death,  content. 


O  mother,  you  who  miss  the  smiling  face 
Of  that  dear  boy  who  vanished  from  your  sight, 

And  left  you  weeping  o'er  the  vacant  place 
He  used  to  fill  at  night, — 


42  THE  SILENT  VICTORS 

Who  left  you  dazed,  bewildered,  on  a  day 
That  echoed  wild  huzzas,  and  roar  of  guns 

That  drowned  the  farewell  words  you  tried  to  say 
To  incoherent  ones  ; — 

Be  glad  and  proud  you  had  the  life  to  give- 
Be  comforted  through  all  the  years  to  come, — 

Your  country  has  a  longer  life  to  live, 
Your  son  a  better  home. 

0  widow,  weeping  o'er  the  orphaned  child, 
Who  only  lifts  his  questioning  eyes  to  send 

A  keener  pang  to  grief  unreconciled,— 
Teach  him  to  comprehend 

He  had  a  father  brave  enough  to  stand 
Before  the  fire  of  Treason's  blazing  gun, 

That,  dying,  he  might  will  the  rich  old  land 
Of  Freedom  to. his  son. 

And,  maiden,  living  on  through  lonely  years 

In  fealty  to  love's  enduring  ties,— 
With  strong  faith  gleaming  through  the  tender  tears 

That  gather  in  your  eyes, 

Look  up !  and  own,  in  gratefulness  of  prayer, 
Submission  to  the  will  of  Heaven's  High  Ho-st: — 

1  see  your  Angel-soldier  pacing  there, 
Expectant  at  his  post. — 


THE  SILENT  VICTORS  43 

I  see  the  rank  and  file  of  armies  vast, 
That  muster  under  one  supreme  control ; 

I  hear  the  trumpet  sound  the  signal-blast— 
The  calling  of  the  roll— 

The  grand  divisions  falling  into  line 
And  forming,  under  voice  of  One  alone 

Who  gives  command,  and  joins  with  tone  divine 
The  hymn  that  shakes  the  Throne. 

IV 

And  thus,  in  tribute  to  the  forms  that  rest 
In  their  last  camping-ground,  we  strew  the  bloom 

And  fragrance  of  the  flowers  they  loved  the  best, 
In  silence  o'er  the  tomb. 

With  reverent  hands  we  twine  the  Hero's  wreath 
And  clasp  it  tenderly  on  stake  or  stone 

That  stands  the  sentinel  for  each  beneath 
Whose  glory  is  our  own. 

While  in  the  violet  that  greets  the  sun, 
We  see  the  azure  eye  of  some  lost  boy; 

And  in  the  rose  the  ruddy  cheek  of  one 
We  kissed  in  childish  joy,— 


44  THE  SILENT  VICTORS 

Recalling,  haply,  when  he  marched  away, 
He  laughed  his  loudest  though  his  eyes  were  wet. 

The  kiss  he  gave  his  mother's  brow  that  day 
Is  there  and  burning  yet: 

And  through  the  storm  of  grief  around  her  tossed, 
One  ray  of  saddest  comfort  she  may  see,— 

Four  hundred  thousand  sons  like  hers  were  lost 
To  weeping  Liberty. 


But  draw  aside  the  drapery  of  gloom, 
And  let  the  sunshine  chase  the  clouds  away 

And  gild  with  brighter  glory  every  tomb 
We  decorate  today: 

And  in  the  holy  silence  reigning  round, 
While  prayers  of  perfume  bless  the  atmosphere, 

Where  loyal  souls  of  love  and  faith  are  found, 
Thank  God  that  Peace  is  here! 

And  let  each  angry  impulse  that  may  start, 
Be  smothered  out  of  every  loyal  breast ; 

And,  rocked  within  the  cradle  of  the  heart, 
Let  every  sorrow  rest. 


UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDY W ME  45 


UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDYWINE 

UP  and  down  old  Brandywine, 

In  the  days  'at's  past  and  gone— 
With  a  dad-burn  hook-and-line 
And  a  saplin'-pole— i  swawn ! 

I've  had  more  fun,  to  the  square 
Inch,  than  ever  awnvhere ! 
Heaven  to  come  can't  discount  mine 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

Haint  no  sense  in  wisbin' — yit 

Wisht  to  goodness  I  could  jes 
Gee  "  the  blame  world  round  and  git 
Back  to  that  old  happiness  !— 

Kindo'  drive  back  in  the  shade 
"  The  old  Covered  Bridge  "  there  laid 
'Crosst  the  crick,  and  sorto'  soak 
My  soul  over,  hub  and  spoke  1 

Honest,  now ! — it  haint  no  dream 

'At  Pm  wantin',— but  thefac's 
As  they  wuz ;  the  same  old  stream, 

And  the  same  old  times,  i  jacks !— 


46  UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDY  WINE 

Gim  me  back  my  bare  feet — and 
Stonebruise  too !— And  scratched  and  tanned ! 
And  let  hottest  dog-days  shine 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

In  and  on  betwixt  the  trees 

'Long  the  banks,  pour  down  yer  noon, 
Kindo*  curdled  with  the  breeze 
And  the  yallerhammer's  tune ; 
And  the  smokin',  chokin'  dust 
O'  the  turnpike  at  its  wusst — 
Saturdays,  say,  when  it  seems 
Road's  jes  jammed  with  country  teams  !— 

Whilse  the  old  town,  fur  away 

'Crosst  the  hazy  pasturMand, 
Dozed-like  in  the  heat  o'  day 
Peaceful'  as  a  hired  hand. 

Jolt  the  gravel  th'ough  the  floor 
O'  the  old  bridge !— grind  and  roar 
With  yer  blame  percession-line — 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine! 

Souse  me  and  my  new  straw-hat 

Off  the  foot-log !— what  /  care?— 
Fist  shoved  in  the  crown  o'  that— 

Like  the  old  Clown  ust  to  wear. 


UP  .AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDY  WINE  47 

Wouldn't  swop  it  fer  a'  old 
Gin-u-wine  raal  crown  o'  gold! — 
Keep  yer  King  ef  you'll  gim  me 
Jes  the  boy  I  ust  to  be ! 

Spill  my  fishing-worms !  er  steal 

My  best  "  goggle-eye !" — but  you 
Can't  lay  hands  on  joys  I  feel 
Nibblin'  like  they  ust  to  do ! 
So,  in  memory,  to-day 
Same  old  ripple  lips  away 
At  my  cork  and  saggin'  line, 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

There  the  logs  is,  round  the  hill, 

Where"  Old  Irvin"  ust  to  lift 
Out  sunfish  from  daylight  till 

Dew-fall— 'fore  he'd  leave  " The  Drift" 
And  give  us  a  chance — and  then 
Kindo'  fish  back  home  again, 
Ketchin'  'em  jes  left  and  right 
Where  we  hadn't  got  "  a  bite !" 

Er,  'way  windin'  out  and  in,— 

Old  path  th'ough  the  iurnweeds 
And  dog-fennel  to  yer  chin — 

Then  come  suddent,  th'ough  the  reeds 


48  UP  AND  DOH/N  OLD  BRANDY IV WE 

And  cat-tails,  smack  into  where 
Them-air  woods-hogs  ust  to  scare 
Us  clean  'crosst  the  County-line, 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

But  the  dim  roar  o'  the  dam 

It  'ud  coax  us  furder  still 
Tords  the  old  race,  slow  and  ca'm, 
Slidin'  on  to  Huston's  mill — 

Where,  I  'spect,  "  The  Freeport  crowd  " 
Never  warmed  to  us  er  'lowed 
We  wuz  quite  so  overly 
Welcome  as  we  aimed  to  be. 

Still  it  peared-like  ever'thing— 

Fur  away  from  home  as  there — 
Had  more  r^'sA-like,  i  jing  !— 
Fish  in  stream,  er  bird  in  air! 
O  them  rich  old  bottom-lands, 
Past  where  Cowden's  Schoolhouse  stands! 
Wortermelons — master-mine  ! 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine ! 

And  sich  pop-paws !— Lumps  o'  raw 
Gold  and  green,— jes  oozy  th'ough 

With  ripe  yaller — like  you've  saw 
Custard-pie  with  no  crust  to: 


UP  AND  DOWN  OLD  BRANDY  WINE  49 

And  jes  gorges  o'  wild  plums, 
Till  a  feller'd  suck  his  thumbs 
Clean  up  to  his  elbows !    My! — 
Me  some  more  er  lem  me  die  ! 

Up  and  down  old  Brandywine  1 .... 

Stripe  me  with  pokeberry-juice  I— 
Flick  me  with  a  pizenvine 

And  yell  "  Yip!"  and  lem  me  loose! 
—Old  now  as  I  then  wuz  young, 
'F  I  could  sing  as  I  have  sung, 
Song  *ud  surely  ring  dee-vine 
Up  and  down  old  Brandywine! 


50  THREE  SINGING  FRIENDS 

THREE  SINGING  FRIENDS 

I 
LEE  O.  HARRIS 

SCHOOLMASTER  and  Songmaster!  Memory 
Enshrines  thee  with  an  equal  love   for  thy 
Duality  of  gifts,— thy  pure  and  high 

Endowments — Learning  rare,  and  Poesy. 

These  were  as  mutual  handmaids,  serving  thee. 
Throughout  all  seasons  of  the  years  gone  by, 
With  all  enduring  joys  'twixt  earth  and  sky— 

In  turn  shared  nobly  with  thy  friends  and  me. 

Thus  is  it  that  thy  clear  song,  ringing  on, 
Is  endless  inspiration,  fresh  and  free 
As  the  old  Mays  at  verge  of  June  sunshine; 

And  musical  as  then,  at  dewy  dawn, 
The  robin  hailed  us,  and  all  twinklingly 
Our  one  path  wandered  under  wood  and  vine. 

II 
BENJ.  S.  PARKER 

Thy  rapt  song  makes  of  Earth  a  realm  of  light 
And  shadow  mystical  as  some  dreamland 
Arched  with  unfathomed  azure— vast  and  grand 

With  splendor  of  the  morn ;  or  dazzling  bright 


THREE  SINGING  FRIENDS  51 

With  orient  noon ;  or  strewn  with  stars  of  night 

Thick  as  the  daisies  blown  in  grasses  fanned 

By  odorous  midsummer  breezes  and 
Showered  over  by  all  bird-songs  exquisite. 
This  is  thy  voice's  beatific  art — 

To  make  melodious  all  things  below, 

Calling  through  them,  from  far,  diviner  space, 
Thy  clearer  hail  to  us. — The  faltering  heart 

Thou  cheerest;  and  thy  fellow  mortal  so 
Fares  onward  under  Heaven  with  lifted  face. 

Ill 
JAMES  NEWTON  MATTHEWS 

Bard  of  our  Western  world !— its  prairies  wide, 
With  edging  woods,  lost  creeks  and  hidden  ways; 
Its  isolated  farms,  with  roundelays 

Of  orchard  warblers  heard  on  every  side; 

Its  crossroad  schoolhouse,  wherein  still  abide 
Thy  fondest  memories, — since  there  thy  gaze 
First  fell  on  classic  verse;  and  thou,  in  praise 

Of  that,  didst  find  thine  own  song  glorified. 

So  singing,  smite  the  strings  and  counterchange 
The  lucently  melodious  drippings  of 
Thy  happy  harp,  from  airs  of  "Tempe  Vale," 

To  chirp  and  trill  of  lowliest  flight  and  range, 
In  praise  of  our  Today  and  home  and  love — 
Thou  meadowlark  no  less  than  nightingale. 


52  A  NOON  LULL 


A  NOON  LULL 

'POSSUM  in  de  'tater-patch; 

Chicken-hawk  a-hangin' 
Stiddy  'bove  de  stable-lot, 

An'  cyarpet-loom  a-bangin'! 
Hi!  Mr.  Hoppergrass,  chawin'  yo'  terbacker, 
Flick  ye  wid  er  buggy-whirp  yer  spit  er  little  blacker ! 

Niggah  in  de  roas'in'-yeers, 

Whiskers  in  de  shuckin'; 
Weasel  croppin'  mighty  shy, 

But  ole  hen  a-cluckin'! 

— What's  got  de  matter  er  de  mule-colt  now? 
Drapt  in  de  turnip-hole,  chasin'  f'um  de  cow! 


A  WINDY  DAY  53 


A  WINDY   DAY 

THE  dawn  was  a  dawn  of  splendor, 

And  the  blue  of  the  morning  skies 
Was  as  placid  and  deep  and  tender 

As  the  blue  of  a  baby's  eyes; 
The  sunshine  flooded  the  mountain, 

And  flashed  over  land  and  sea 
Like  the  spray  of  a  glittering  fountain. — 

But  the  wind— the  wind—  Ah  me ! 

Like  a  weird  invisible  spirit, 

It  swooped  in  its  airy  flight; 
And  the  earth,  as  the  stress  drew  near  it. 

Quailed  as  in  mute  affright ; 
The  grass  in  the  green  fields  quivered— 

The  waves  of  the  smitten  brook 
Chillily  shuddered  and  shivered, 

And  the  reeds  bowed  down  and  shook. 

Like  a  sorrowful  miserere 

It  sobbed  and  it  wailed  and  blew 
Till  the  leaves  on  the  trees  looked  weary, 

And  my  prayers  were  weary,  too ; 
And  then,  like  the  sunshine's  glimmer 

That  failed  in  the  awful  strain, 
All  the  hope  of  my  eyes  grew  dimmer 

In  a  spatter  of  spiteful  rain. 


54  MY  HENRY 


MY   HENRY 

HE'S  jes'  a  great,  big,  awk'ard,  hulkin' 
Feller, — humped,  and  sorto'  sulkin'- 
Like,  and  ruther  still-appearin'— 
Kind-as-ef  he  wuzn't  keerin' 

Whether  school  helt  out  er  not — 
That's  my  Henry,  to  a  dot! 

Allus  kindo*  liked  him — whether 
Childern,  er  growed-up  together! 
Fifteen  year'  ago  and  better, 
'Fore  he  ever  knowed  a  letter, 
Run  acrosst  the  little  fool 
In  my  Primer-class  at  school. 

When  the  Teacher  wuzn't  lookin', 
He'd  be  th'owin'  wads ;  er  crookin' 
Pins ;  er  sprinklin'  pepper,  more'n 
Likely,  on  the  stove;  er  borin' 

Gimblet-holes  up  thue  his  desk— 
Nothin*  that  boy  wouldn't  resk! 

But,  somehow,  as  I  was  goin* 
On  to  say,  he  seemed  so  knowing 
Other  ways,  and  cute  and  cunnin' — 
Allus  wuz  a  notion  runnin* 

Thue  my  giddy,  fool-head  he 
Jes'  had  ben  cut  out  fer  me! 


MY  HENRY  55 


Don't  go  much  on  prophesy  in1, 
But  last  night  whilse  I  wuz  fryin5 
Supper,  with  that  man  a-pitchin' 
Little  Marthy  'round  the  kitchen, 

Think-says-I,  "  Them  baby's  eyes 
Is  my  Henry's,  jes'  p'cise!" 


56  THE  SONG  I  NEVER  SING 


THE  SONG  I  NEVER  SING 

AS  when  in  dreams  we  sometimes  hear 

A  melody  so  faint  and  fine 
And  musically  sweet  and  clear, 
It  flavors  all  the  atmosphere 
With  harmony  divine, — 
So,  often  in  my  waking  dreams, 
I  hear  a  melody  that  seems 
Like  fairy  voices  whispering 
To  me  the  song  I  never  sing. 

Sometimes  when  brooding  o'er  the  years 

My  lavish  youth  has  thrown  away — 
When  all  the  glowing  past  appears 
But  as  a  mirage  that  my  tears 
Have  crumbled  to  decay, — 
I  thrill  to  find  the  ache  and  pain 
Of  my  remorse  is  stilled  again, 
As,  forward  bent  and  listening, 
I  hear  the  song  I  never  sing. 

A  murmuring  of  rythmic  words, 

Adrift  on  tunes  whose  currents  flow 
Melodious  with  the  trill  of  birds, 
And  far-off  lowing  of  the  herds 
In  lands  of  long-ago ; 


THE  SONG  I  NEfER  SING  57 

And  every  sound  the  truant  loves 
Comes  to  me  like  the  coo  of  doves 
When  first  in  blooming  fields  of  Spring 
I  heard  the  song  I  never  sing. 

The  echoes  of  old  voices,  wound 

In  limpid  streams  of  laughter  where 
The  river  Time  runs  bubble-crowned, 
And  giddy  eddies  ripple  round 
The  lilies  growing  there; 
Where  roses,  bending  o'er  the  brink, 
Drain  their  own  kisses  as  they  drink, 
And  ivies  climb  and  twine  and  cling 
About  the  song  I  never  sing. 

An  ocean-surge  of  sound  that  falls 
As  though  a  tide  of  Heavenly  art 
Had  tempested  the  gleaming  halls 
And  crested  o'er  the  golden  walls 
In  showers  on  my  heart.... 
Thus — thus,  with  open  arms  and  eyes 
Uplifted  toward  the  alien  skies, 
Forgetting  every  earthly  thing, 
I  hear  the  song  I  never  sing. 


58  THE  SONG  I  NEl/ER  SING 

O  nameless  lay,  sing  clear  and  strong, 

Pour  down  thy  melody  divine 
Till  purifying  floods  of  song 
Have  washed  away  the  stains  of  wrong 
That  dim  this  soul  of  mine! 
O  woo  me  near  and  nearer  thee, 
Till  my  glad  lips  may  catch  the  key, 
And,  with  a  voice  unwavering, 
Join  in  the  song  I  never  sing. 


TO  EDGAR  WILSON  NYE  59 


TO  EDGAR  WILSON  NYE 

O  "  WILLIAM,"— in  thy  blithe  companionship 
What  liberty  is  mine— what  sweet  release 
From  clamorous  strife,  and  yet  what  boisterous  peace ! 

Ho !  ho !  it  is  thy  fancy's  finger-tip 

That  dints  the  dimple  now,  and  kinks  the  lip 
That  scarce  may  sing,  in  all  this  glad  increase 
Of  merriment !    So,  pray-thee,  do  not  cease 

To  cheer  me  thus ; — for,  underneath  the  quip 

Of  thy  droll  sorcery,  the  wrangling  fret 
Of  all  distress  is  stilled— no  syllable 

Of  sorrow  vexeth  me— no  teardrops  wet 
My  teeming  lids  save  those  that  leap  to  tell 

Thee  thou  'st  a  guest  that  overweepeth,  yet 
Only  because  thou  jokest  overwell. 


60  LITTLE  DAVID 


LITTLE  DAVID 

THE  mother  of  the  little  boy  that  sleeps 
Has  blest  assurance,  even  as  she  weeps:- 
She  knows  her  little  boy  has  now  no  pain- 
No  further  ache,  in  body,  heart  or  brain ; 
All  sorrow  is  lulled  for  him— all  distress 
Passed  into  utter  peace  and  restfulness.— 
All  health  that  heretofore  has  been  denied— 
All  happiness,  all  hope,  and  all  beside 
Of  childish  longing,  now  he  clasps  and  keeps 
In  voiceless  joy— the  little  boy  that  sleeps. 


OUT  OF  THE  HITHERWHERE  61 


OUT  OF  THE  HITHERWHERE 

OUT  of  the  hitherwhere  into  the  YON— 
The  land  that  the  Lord's  love  rests  upon ; 
Where  one  may  rely  on  the  friends  he  meets, 
And  the  smiles  that  greet  him  along  the  streets: 
Where  the  mother  that  left  you  years  ago 
Will  lift  the  hands  that  were  folded  so, 
And  put  them  about  you,  with  all  the  love 
And  tenderness  you  are  dreaming  of. 

Out  of  the  hitherwhere  into  the  YON— 

Where  all  of  the  friends  of  your  youth  have  gone,- 

Where  the  old  schoolmate  that  laughed  with  you, 

Will  laugh  again  as  he  used  to  do, 

Running  to  meet  you,  with  such  a  face 

As  lights  like  a  moon  the  wondrous  place 

Where  God  is  living,  and  glad  to  live, 

Since  He  is  the  Master  and  may  forgive. 

Out  of  the  hitherwhere  into  the  YON  !— 

Stay  the  hopes  we  are  leaning  on  — 

You,  Divine,  with  Your  merciful  eyes 

Looking  down  from  the  far-away  skies, — 

Smile  upon  us,  and  reach  and  take 

Our  worn  souls  Home  for  the  old  home's  sake.— 

And  so  Amen,— for  our  all  seems  gone 

Out  of  the  hitherwhere  into  the  YON. 


62  RABBIT  IN  THE  CROSS-TIES 


RABBIT   IN  THE   CROSS-TIES 

RABBIT  in  the  cross-ties.— 
Punch  him  out— quick! 

Git  a  twister  on  him 
With  a  long  prong  stick. 

Watch  him  on  the  south  side- 
Watch  him  on  the— Hi  !— 

There  he  goes!    Sic  him,  Tige! 
Yi!    YIII    Yill! 


SERENADE— TO  NORA  63 


SERENADE— TO  NORA 

THE  moonlight  is  failin'— 

The  sad  stars  are  palin' — 
The  black  wings  av  night  are  a-droopin'  an*  trailing 

The  wind's  miserere 

Sounds  lonesome  an*  dreary; 
The  katydid's  dumb  an'  the  nightingale's  weary. 

Troth,  Nora!   I'm  wadin' 

The  grass  an'  paradin' 
The  dews  at  your  dure,  wid  my  swate  serenading 

Alone  and  forsaken, 

Whilst  you're  never  wakin' 
To  tell  me  you're  wid  me  an'  I  am  mistaken  I 

Don't  think  that  my  singin' 

Its  wrong  to  be  flingin' 
Forninst  av  the  dreams  that  the  Angels  are  bringin'; 

For  if  your  pure  spirit 

Might  waken  and  hear  it, 
You'd  never  be  draamin'  the  Saints  could  come  near  it ! 

Then  lave  off  your  slaapin'— 

The  pulse  av  me's  laapin' 
To  have  the  two  eyes  av  yez  down  on  me  paapin*. 

Och,  Nora!    Its  hopin' 

Your  windy  ye'll  open 
And  light  up  the  night  were  the  heart  av  me's  gropin'. 


64  HE  AND  I 


HE   AND   I 

JUST  drifting  on  together- 
He  and  I— 
As  through  the  balmy  weather 

Of  July 

Drift  two  thistle-tufts  imbedded 
Each  in  each — by  zephyrs  wedded — 
Touring  upward,  giddy-headed, 
For  the  sky. 

And,  veering  up  and  onward, 

Do  we  seem 
Forever  drifting  dawn  ward 

In  a  dream, 

Where  we  meet  song-birds  that  know  us, 
And  the  winds  their  kisses  blow  us, 
While  the  years  flow  far  below  us 
Like  a  stream. 

And  we  are  happy — very^ 

He  and  I— 
Aye,  even  glad  and  merry 

Though  on  high 

The  heavens  are  sometimes  shrouded 
By  the  midnight  storm,  and  clouded 
Till  the  pallid  moon  is  crowded 
From  the  sky. 


HE  /tND  I  65 


My  spirit  ne'er  expresses 

Any  choice 
But  to  clothe  him  with  caresses 

And  rejoice; 

And  as  he  laughs,  it  is  in 
Such  a  tone  the  moonbeams  glisten 
And  the  stars  come  out  to  listen 
To  his  voice. 

And  so,  whatever  the  weather, 

He  and  I, — 
With  our  lives  linked  thus  together, 

Float  and  fly 

As  two  thistle-tufts  imbedded 
Each  in  each — by  zephyrs  wedded—" 
Touring  upward,  giddy-headed, 
For  the  sky. 


66  WHAT  REDRESS 


WHAT  REDRESS 

I  PRAY  you,  do  not  use  this  thing 

For  vengeance;  but  if  questioning 

What  wound,  when  dealt  your  humankind. 

Goes  deepest, — surely  he  will  find 

Who  wrongs  you,  loving  Um  no  less — 

There's  nothing  hurts  like  tenderness. 


DREAMER,  SAY  67 


DREAMER,  SAY 

DREAMER,  say,  will  you  dream  for  me 

A  wild  sweet  dream  of  a  foreign  land, 
Whose  border  sips  of  a  foaming  sea 

With  lips  of  coral  and  silver  sand; 
Where  warm  winds  loll  on  the  shady  deeps, 

Or  lave  themselves  in  the  tearful  mist 
The  great  wild  wave  of  the  breaker  weeps 

O'er  crags  of  opal  and  amethyst? 

Dreamer,  say,  will  you  dream  a  dream 

Of  tropic  shades  in  the  lands  of  shine, 
Where  the  lily  leans  o'er  an  amber  stream 

That  flows  like  a  rill  of  wasted  wine,— 
Where  the  palm-trees,  lifting  their  shields  of  green, 

Parry  the  shafts  of  the  Indian  sun 
Whose  splintering  vengeance  falls  between 

The  reeds  below  where  the  waters  run? 

Dreamer,  say,  will  you  dream  of  love 

That  lives  in  a  land  of  sweet  perfume, 
Where  the  stars  drip  down  from  the  skies  above 

In  molten  spatters  of  bud  and  bloom? 
Where  never  the  weary  eyes  are  wet, 

And  never  a  sob  in  the  balmy  air, 
And  only  the  laugh  of  the  paroquette 

Breaks  the  sleep  of  the  silence  there? 


68  WHEN  LIDE  MARRIED  HIM 


WHEN  LIDE  MARRIED  HIM 

WHEN  Lide  married  him — w'y,  she  had  to  jes  dee-fy 

The  whole  popilation ! — But  she  never  bat'  an  eye ! 

Her  parents  begged,  and  threatened — she  must  give  him 

up— that  he 
Wuz   jes  "  a  common  drunkard !  " — And    he  wu%y  ap- 

pearantly. — 

Swore  they'd  chase  him  off  the  place 
Ef  he  ever  showed  his  face — 
Long  after  she'd  eloped  with  him   and  married  him  fer 

shore  !— 
When  Lide  married  him,  it  wuz  " Katy,  bar  the  door!" 

When  Lide  married  him — Well !  she  had  to  go  and  be 
A   hired  girl  in    town    somewheres — while  he  tromped 

round  to  see 
What  he  could  git  that  he  could  do, — you  might  say, 

jes  sawed  wood 
From  door-to-door !— that's  wh  at  he  done— 'cause  that 

wuz  best  he  could  1 

And  the  strangest  thing,  i  jing ! 
Wuz,  he  didn't  drink  a  thing,— 

But  jes  got  down  to  bizness,  like  he  someway  wanted  to, 
When  Lide  married  him,  like  they  warned  her  not  to  do ! 


WHEN  LIDE  MARRIED  HIM  69 

When  Lide  married  him — er,  ruther,  had  ben  married 
A  little  up'ards  of  a  year — some  feller  come  and  carried 
That  hired  girl  away  with  him — a  ruther  stylish  feller 
In   a  bran-new  green   spring-wagon,  with   the  wheels 
striped  red  and  yeller: 

And  he  whispered,  as  they  driv 
Tords  the  country,  "Now  will  live!" — 
And  someptn'  else  she  laughed  to  hear,  though  both  her 

eyes  wuz  dim, 

'Bout  "  trustirf  Love  and  Heav'n  above,  sence  Lide  mar 
ried  him!" 


70  MY  BRIDE  THAT  IS  TO  BE 


MY  BRIDE  THAT  IS  TO  BE 

O  SOUL  of  mine,  look  out  and  see 
My  bride,  my  bride  that  is  to  be!— 

Reach  out  with  mad,  impatient  hands, 
And  draw  aside  futurity 
As  one  might  draw  a  veil  aside — 

And  so  unveil  her  where  she  stands 
Madonna-like  and  glorified— 

The  queen  of  undiscovered  lands 
Of  love,  to  where  she  beckons  me— 
My  bride— my  bride  that  is  to  be. 
The  shadow  of  a  willow-tree 

That  wavers  on  a  garden-wall 

In  summertime  may  never  fall 
In  attitude  as  gracefully 
As  my  fair  bride  that  is  to  be;— 

Nor  ever  Autumn's  leaves  of  brown 
As  lightly  flutter  to  the  lawn 
As  fall  her  fairy-feet  upon 

The  path  of  love  she  loiters  down. — 
O'er  drops  of  dew  she  walks,  and  yet 
Not  one  may  stain  her  sandal  wet- 
Aye,  she  might  dance  upon  the  way 
Nor  crush  a  single  drop  to  spray, 
So  airy-like  she  seems  to  me, — 
My  bride,  my  bride  that  is  to  be. 


MY  BRIDE  THAT  IS  TO  BE  71 

1  know  not  if  her  eyes  are  light 
As  summer-skies  or  dark  as  night,— 
I  only  know  that  they  are  dim 

With  mystery:    In  vain  I  peer 

To  make  their  hidden  meaning  clear, 

While  o'er  their  surface,  like  a  tear 
That  ripples  to  the  silken  brim, 
A  look  of  longing  seems  to  swim 

AH  worn  and  wearylike  to  me; 
And  then,  as  suddenly,  my  sight 
Is  blinded  with  a  smile  so  bright, 

Through  folded  lids  I  still  may  see 

My  bride,  my  bride  that  is  to  be. 
Her  face  is  like  a  night  of  June 
Upon  whose  brow  the  crescent-moon 
Hangs  pendant  in  a  diadem 
Of  stars,  with  envy  lighting  them. — 

And,  like  a  wild  cascade,  her  hair 
Floods  neck  and  shoulder,  arm  and  wrist, 
Till  only  through  a  gleaming  mist 

I  seem  to  see  a  siren  there, 
With  lips  of  love  and  melody 

And  open  arms  and  heaving  breast 

Wherein  I  fling  myself  to  rest, 
The  while  my  heart  cries  hopelessly 
For  my  fair  bride  that  is  to  be.... 


72  MY  BRIDE  THAT  IS  TO  BE 

Nay,  foolish  heart  and  blinded  eyes! 
My  bride  hath  need  of  no  disguise.— 

But,  rather,  let  her  come  to  me 
In  such  a  form  as  bent  above 

My  pillow  when,  in  infancy, 
I  knew  not  anything  but  love.— 
O  let  her  come  from  out  the  lands 

Of  Womanhood— not  fairy  isles,— 
And  let  her  come  with  Woman's  hands 

And  Woman's  eyes  of  tears  and  smiles,- 
With  Woman's  hopefulness  and  grace 
Of  patience  lighting  up  her  face : 
And  let  her  diadem  be  wrought 
Of  kindly  deed  and  prayerful  thought, 
That  ever  over  all  distress 
May  beam  the  light  of  cheerfulness. 
And  let  her  feet  be  brave  to  fare 
The  labyrinths  of  doubt  and  care, 
That,  following,  my  own  may  find 
The  path  to  Heaven  God  designed. — 
O  let  her  come  like  this  to  me— 
My  bride— my  bride  that  is  to  be. 


.  "  RINGWORM  FRANK  "  73 


"RINGWORM  FRANK" 

JEST  Frank  Reed  's  his  real  name— though 

Boys  all  calls  him  "  Ringworm  Frank," 
'Cause  he  allus  runs  round  so. — 
No  man  can't  tell  where  to  bank 
Frank  '11  be, 
Next  you  see 

Er  hear  of  him  ! — Drat  his  melts ! — 
That  man's  allus  somers  else! 

We're  old  pards. — But  Frank  he  jest 

Can't  stay  still !— Wuz  prosper**!  heres 
But  lit  out  on  furder  West 
Somers  on  a  ranch,  last  year: 
Never  heard 
Nary  a  word 

How  he  liked  it,  tel  to-day, 
Got  this  card,  reads  thisaway:— 

"Dad-burn  climate  out  here  makes 

Me  homesick  all  Winter  long, 
And  when  Springtime  comes,  it  takes 
Two  pee-wees  to  sing  one  song, — 
One  sings  l  pee? 
And  the  other  one  *wt/9 
Stay  right  where  you  air,  old  pard. — 
Wisht  /  wuz  this  postal-card ! " 


74  AK  EMPTY  GLOVE 

AN  EMPTY  GLOVE 

I 

AN  empty  glove — long  withering  in  the  grasp 
Of  Time's  cold  palm.    I  lift  it  to  my  lips — 
And  lo,  once  more  I  thrill  beneath  its  clasp, 
In  fancy,  as  with  odorous  finger-tips 
It  reaches  from  the  years  that  used  to  be 
And  proffers  back  love,  life  and  all,  to  me. 

II 

Ah !  beautiful  she  was  beyond  belief : 

Her  face  was  fair  and  lustrous  as  the  moon's ; 
Her  eyes— too  large  for  small  delight  or  grief,— 
The  smiles  of  them  were  Laughter's  afternoons; 
Their  tears  were  April  showers,  and  their  love- 
All  sweetest  speech  swoons  ere  it  speaks  thereof. 

Ill 

White-fruited  cocoa  shown  against  the  shell 

Were  not  so  white  as  was  her  brow  below 
The  cloven  tresses  of  the  hair  that  fell 
Across  her  neck  and  shoulders  of  nude  snow; 
Her  cheeks— chaste  pallor,  with  a  crimson  stain— 
Her  mouth  was  like  a  red  rose  rinsed  with  rain. 


AN  EMPTY  GLOVE  75 

IV 

And  this  was  she  my  fancy  held  as  good — 

As  fair  and  lovable— in  every  wise 
As  peerless  in  pure  worth  of  womanhood 
As  was  her  wondrous  beauty  in  men's  eyes. — 
Yet,  all  alone,  I  kiss  this  empty  glove— 
The  poor  husk  of  the  hand  I  loved— and  love* 


76  OUR  OWN 


OUR   OWN 

THEY  walk  here  with  us,  hand-in-hand ; 

We  gossip,  knee-by-knee ; 
They  tell  us  all  that  they  have  planned— 

Of  all  their  joys  to  be, — 
And,  laughing,  leave  us :    And,  to-day, 

All  desolate  we  cry 
Across  wide  waves  of  voiceless  graves — 

Good-bye!  Good-bye!  Good-bye! 


MAKE-BELIEVE 

AND  CHILD-PLAY 


<77> 


THE  FROG 

am  1  but  the  Frog— the  Frog! 

My  realm  is  the  dark  bayou, 
And  my  throne  is  the  muddy  and  moss-grown  log 

That  the  poison-vine  clings  to — 
And  the  blacksnakes  slide  in  the  slimy  tide 

Where  the  ghost  of  the  moon  looks  blue. 

What  am  1  but  a  King — a  King! — 

For  the  royal  robes  I  -wear — 
A  sceptre^  too,  and  a  signet-ring, 

As  vassals  and  serfs  declare : 
And  a  voice,  god  wot,  that  is  equaled  not 

In  the  wide  world  anywhere! 

I  can  talk  to  the  Night— the  Night!— 

Under  her  big  black  wing 
She  tells  me  the  tale  of  the  world  outright, 

And  the  secret  of  everything ; 
For  she  knows  you  all,  from  the  time  you  crawl, 

To  the  doom  that  death  will  bring. 

The  Storm  swoops  down,  and  he  blows — and  blows,- 

While  I  drum  on  his  swollen  cheek, 
And  croak  in  his  angered  eye  that  glows 
(79) 


8o  THE  FROG 


With  the  lurid  lightning's  streak; 
While  the  rushes  drown  in  the  watery  frown 
That  his  bursting  passions  leak. 

And  I  can  see  through  the  sky — the  sky — 

As  clear  as  a  piece  of  glass  ; 
And  I  can  tell  you  the  how  and  why 

Of  the  things  that  come  to  pass — 
And  whether  the  dead  are  there  instead, 

Or  under  the  graveyard  grass. 

To  your  Sovereign  lord  all  hail — all  hail  I — 
To  your  Prince  on  his  throne  so  grim  ! 

Let  the  moon  swing  low,  and  the  high  stars  trail 
Their  heads  in  the  dust  to  him ; 

And  the  wide  world  sing :  Long  live  the  King, 
And  grace  to  his  royal  whim  ! 


"TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

IF  my  old  school-chum  and  room-mate  John  Skinner  is 
alive  to-day — and  no  doubt  he  is  alive,  and  quite  so,  be 
ing,  when  last  heard  from,  the  very  alert  and  effective 
Train  Dispatcher  at  Butler,  Ind., — he  will  not  have  for 
gotten  a  certain  night  in  early  June  (the  8th)  of  1870,  in 
"  Old  Number  'Leven  "  of  the  Dunbar  House,  Green 
field,  when  he  and  I  sat  the  long  night  through,  getting 
ready  a  famous  issue  of  our  old  school-paper,  "  The  Cri 
terion."  And  he  will  remember,  too,  the  queer  old  man 
who  occupied,  but  that  one  night,  the  room  just  opposite 
our  own,  number  13.  For  reasons  wholly  aside  from 
any  superstitious  dread  connected  with  the  numerals,  13 
was  not  a  desirable  room ;  its  locality  was  alien  to  all 
accommodations,  and  its  comforts,  like  its  furnishings, 
were  extremely  meager.  In  fact,  it  was  the  room  usu 
ally  assigned  to  the  tramp-printer,  who,  in  those  days, 
was  an  institution ;  or  again,  it  was  the  local  habitation 
of  the  oft-recurring  transient  customer  who  was  too  in 
capacitated  to  select  a  room  himself  when  he  retired — 
or  rather,  when  he  was  personally  retired  by  "  the 
hostler,"  as  the  gentlemanly  night-clerk  of  that  era  was 
habitually  designated. 

As  both  Skinner  and  myself — between  fitful  terms  of 
school — had  respectively  served  as  "printer's  devil"  in 
(81) 


82  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

the  two  rival  newspaper  offices  of  the  town,  it  was 
natural  for  us  to  find  a  ready  interest  in  anything  per 
taining  to  the  newspaper  business ;  and  so  it  was,  per 
haps,  that  we  had  been  selected,  by  our  own  approval 
and  that  of  our  fellow-students  of  The  Graded  Schools, 
to  fill  the  rather  exalted  office  of  editing  "  The  Criterion." 
Certain  it  is,  that  the  rather  abrupt  rise  from  the  lowly 
duties  of  the  "roller"  to  the  editorial  management  of 
a  paper  of  our  own  (even  if  issued  in  hand-writing) 
we  accepted  as  a  natural  right ;  and,  vested  in  our  new 
power  of  office,  we  were  largely  "shaping  the  whisper 
of  the  throne"  about  our  way. 

And  upon  this  particular  evening  it  was,  as  John  and 
I  had  fairly  squared  ourselves  for  the  work  of  the  night, 
that  we  heard  the  clatter  and  shuffle  of  feet  on  the 
side-stairs,  and,  an  instant  later,  the  hostler  establish 
ing  some  poor  unfortunate  in  13,  just  across  the  hall. 

"  Listen  !  "  said  John,  as  we  heard  an  old  man's  voice 
through  the  open  transom  of  our  door, — "  Listen  at 
that!" 

It  was  an  utterance  peculiarly  refined,  in  language  as 
well  as  intonation.  A  1  w,  mild,  rather  apologetic  voice, 
gently  assuring  the  hostler  that  "  everything  was  very 
snug  and  comfortable  indeed,"  so  far  as  the  "compart 
ment"  was  concerned— but  would  not  the  "attendant" 
kindly  supply  a  better  light,  together  with  pen-and-ink— 
and  just  a  sheet  or  two  of  paper,— if  he  would  be  so 


"TW1GGS  AND  TUDENS"  83 

very  good  as  to  find  a  pardon  for  so  very  troublesome 
a  guest." 

"  Haint  no  writin'-paper,"  said  the  hostler,  briefly,— 
"and  the  big  lamps  is  all  in  use.  These  fellers  here  in 
'Leven  might  let  you  have  some  paper  and— Haint  you 
got  a  lead-pencil?" 

"Oh,  no  matter!"  came  the  impatient  yet  kindly  an 
swer  of  the  old  voice—"  no  matter  at  all,  my  good  fel 
low  !— Good-night— good-night !  " 

We  waited  till  the  sullen,  clumpy  footsteps  down  the 
hall  and  stair  had  died  away. 

Then  Skinner,  with  a  handful  of  foolscap,  opened  our 
door ;  and,  with  an  indorsing  smile  from  me,  crossed  the 
hall  and  tapped  at  13 — was  admitted — entered,  and  very 
quietly  closed  the  door  behind  him,  evidently  that  I 
might  not  be  disturbed. 

I  wrote  on  in  silence  for  quite  a  time.  It  was,  in 
fact,  a  full  half-hour  before  John  had  returned,— and 
with  a  face  and  eye  absolutely  blazing  with  delight. 

"An  old  printer,"  whispered  John,  answering  my 
look, — "and  we're  in  luck: — He's  a  genius,  'y  God! 
and  an  Englishman,  and  knows  Dickens  personally— 
used  to  write  races  with  him,  and's  got  a  manuscript 
of  his  in  his  "portmanteau,"  as  he  calls  an  old  oil 
cloth  knapsack  with  one  lung  clean  gone.  Excuse  this 
extra  light.— Old  man's  lamp's  like  a  sore  eye,  and  he's 
going  to  touch  up  the  Dickens'  sketch  for  us!  Hear?— 


84  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

For  MS— for  'The  Criterion.9  Says  he  can't  sleep— he's 
in  distress— has  a  presentiment— some  dear  friend  is 
dying— or  dead  now— and  he  must  write— write!" 

This  is,  in  briefest  outline,  the  curious  history  of  the 
subjoined  sketch,  especially  curious  for  the  reason  that 
the  following  morning's  cablegram  announced  that  the 
great  novelist,  Charles  Dickens,  had  been  stricken  sud 
denly  and  seriously  the  night  previous.  On  the  day  of 
this  announcement — even  as  "  The  Criterion"  was  being 
read  to  perfunctorily-interested  visitors  of  The  Greenfield 
Graded  Schools — came  the  further  announcement  of  Mr. 
Dickens'  death.  The  old  printer's  manuscript,  here  repro 
duced,  is,  as  originally,  captioned— 

TWIGGS   AND  TUDENS 

"  Now  who'd  want  a  more  cozier  little  home  than  me 
and  Tude's  got  here?"  asked  Mr.  Twiggs,  as  his  twink 
ling  eyes  swept  caressingly  around  the  cheery  little 
room  in  which  he,  alone,  stood  one  chill  December  even 
ing  as  the  great  St.  Paul's  was  drawling  six. 

"This  aint  no  princely  hall  with  all  its  gorgeous 
paraphanaly,  as  the  play-bills  says ;  but  it's  what  I  calls 
a  '  interior,'  which  for  meller  comfort  and  cheerful  sur- 
roundin's,  aint  to  be  ekalled  by  no  other  'flat*  on  the 
boundless,  never-endin'  stage  of  this  existence ! "  And 
as  the  exuberant  Mr.  Twiggs  rendered  this  observation, 
he  felt  called  upon  to  smile  and  bow  most  graciously  to 


"TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS-  85 

an  invisible  audience,  whose  wild  approval  he  in  turn 
interpreted  by  an  enthusiastic  clapping  of  his  hands  and 
the  cry  of  "  ongcore !  "  in  a  dozen  different  keys — this 
strange  acclamation  being  made  the  more  grotesque  by 
a  great  green  parrot  perched  upon  the  mantel,  which  in 
a  voice  less  musical  than  penetrating,  chimed  in  with 
"  Hooray  for  Twiggs  and  Tudens ! "  a  very  great  num 
ber  of  times. 

"Tude's  a  queer  girl,"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  subsiding 
into  a  reflective  calm,  broken  only  by  the  puffing  of  his 
pipe,  and  the  occasional  articulation  of  a  thought,  as  it 
loitered  through  his  mind.  "  Tude's  a  queer  girl ! — a 
werry  queer  girl !  "  repeated  Mr.  Twiggs,  pausing  again, 
with  a  long  whiff  at  his  pipe,  and  marking  the  graceful 
swoop  the  smoke  made  as  it  dipped  and  disappeared  up 
the  wide,  black-throated  chimney;  and  then,  as  though 
dropping  into  confidence  with  the  great  fat  kettle  on  the 
coals,  that  steamed  and  bubbled  with  some  inner  parox 
ysm,  he  added,  "And  queer  and  nothink  short,  is  the 
lines  for  Tude,  eh? 

"  Now  s'posin',"  he  continued,  leaning  forward  and 
speaking  in  a  tone  whose  careful  intonation  might  have 
suggested  a  more  than  ordinary  depth  of  wisdom  and 
sagacity, — "S'posin1  a  pore  chap  like  me,  as  aint  no 
property  only  this  'ere '  little  crooked  house ',  as  Tude  calls 
it,  and  some  o'  the  properties  I  'andles  at  the  Drury— 
as  I  was  a-sayin',— s'posin'  now  a  old  rough  chap  like 


86  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

me  was  jest  to  tell  her  all  about  herself,  and  who  she 
is  and  all,  and  not  no  kith  or  kin  o'  mine,  let  alone  a 
daughter,  as  she  thinks — What  do  you  reckon  now  'ud 
be  the  upshot,  eh?"  And  as  Mr.  Twiggs  propounded 
this  mysterious  query  he  jabbed  the  poker  prankishly 
in  the  short-ribs  of  the  grate,  at  which  the  pot,  as 
though  humoring  a  joke  it  failed  to  wholly  comprehend, 
set  up  a  chuckling  of  such  asthmatic  violence  its 
smothered  cachinations  tilted  its  copper  lid  till  Mr. 
Twiggs  was  obliged  to  dash  a  cup  of  water  in  its  face. 
"And  Tude's  a-comin  of  a  age,  too,"  continued  Mr. 
Twiggs,  "  when  a  more  tenderer  pertecter  than  a  father, 
so  to  speak,  wouldn't  be  out  o'  keepin'  with  the  nat'ral 
order  o'  things,  seein*  as  how  she's  sort  o1  startin' 
tor  herself-like  now.  And  its  a  question  in  my  mind, 
if  it  ain't  my  bounden  duty  as  her  father— or  ruther,  who 
has  been  a  father  to  her  ail  her  life— to  kind  o'  tell  her 
jest  how  things  is,  and  all— and  how  /  am,  and  every 
thing—and  how  I  feel  as  though  I  ort  o'  stand  by  her, 
as  I  allus  have,  and  allus  have  had  her  welfare  in  view, 
and  kind  o'  feel  as  how  I  allus— ort  o5  kind  o'— ort  o' 
kind  o' " — and  here  Mr.  Twiggs'  voice  fell  into  silence  so 
abruptly  that  the  drowsy  parrot  started  from  its  trance- 
like  quiet  and  cried  "Ortokindo!  ortokindo ! "  with 
such  a  strength  of  seeming  mockery  that  he  was  brushed 
violently  to  the  floor  by  the  angry  hand  of  Mr.  Tw  :*gs 
and  went  backing  awkwardlv  beneath  the  table. 


"TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS"  87 

"  Blow  me,"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  "  if  the  knowin'  impi- 
dence  of  that  'ere  bird  aint  astonishin' !  "  And  then,  af 
ter  a  serious  controversy  with  the  draft  of  his  pipe,  he 
went  on  with  his  deliberations. 

"Lor!  it  were  jest  scrumptious  to  see  Tude  in  'The 
Iron  Chest'  last  night!  Now,  I  aint  no  actur  myself,— 
I've  been  on,  of  course,  a  thousand  times  as  'fillinY 
*  sogers '  and  '  peasants '  and  the  like,  where  I  never  had 
no  lines,  on'y  in  the  *  choruses;'  but  if  I  don't  know 
nothin'  but  'All  hail!— All  hail!'  I've  had  the  experi 
ence  of  bein'  under  the  baleful  hinfluence  of  the  hop« 
pery-glass,  c.nd  I'm  free  to  say  it  air  a  ticklish  position 
and  no  mistake.  But  Tude!  w'y>  bless  you,  she  warn 't 
the  first  bit  flustered,  was  she?  'Feared  like  she  jest 
felt  perfectly  at  home-like—like  her  mother  afore  her! 
And  I'm  dashed  if  I  didn't  feel  the  cold  chills  a-creepin* 
and  a-crawlin'  when  she  was  a-singin'  *  Down  by  the 
river  there  grows  a  green  wilier  and  a-weepin'  all  night 
with  the  bank  for  her  piller;'  and  when  she  come  to 
the  part  about  wantin'  to  be  buried  there  '  while  the 
winds  was  a-blowin'  close  by  the  stream  where  her  tears 
was  a-flowin',  and  over  her  corpse  to  keep  the  green 
willers  growin',  I'm  d— d  if  I  didn't  blubber  right  out!'* 
And  as  the  highly  sympathetic  Mr.  Twiggs  delivered 
this  acknowledgment,  he  stroked  the  inner  corners  of  his 
eyes,  and  rubbed  his  thumb  and  finger  on  his  trowsers. 

"It  were  a  tryin'   thing,   though,"   he  went  on,  his 


88  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

mellow  features  settling  into  a  look  not  at  all  in  keep 
ing  with  his  shiny  complexion,  "it  were  a  tryin'  thing, 
and  it  air  a  tryin'  thing  to  see  them  lovely  arms  o'  hern 
a-twinin'  so  lovin'-like  around  that  'ere  Stanley's  neck 
and  a-kissin'  of  him— as  she's  obleeged  to  do,  of  course- 
as  the  'properties'  of  the  play  demands ;  but  I'm  blowed 
if  she  wouldn't  do  it  quite  so  nat'ral-like  I'd  feel  easier. 
Blow  me!  "  he  broke  off  savagely,  starting  up  and  fling 
ing  his  pipe  in  the  ashes,  "I'm  about  a-comin'  to  the 
conclusion  I  aint  got  no  more  courage'n  a  blasted  school 
boy!  Here  I  am  old  enough  to  be  her  father — mighty 
nigh  it — and  yet  I'm  actually  afear'd  to  speak  up  and 
tell  her  jest  how  things  is,  and  all,  and  how  I  feel  like 
I— like  I— ort  o'— ort  o'  "— 

"Ortokindo!  Ortokindo!"  shrieked  the  parrot,  clinging 
in  a  reversed  position  to  the  under-round  of  a  chair. — 
"Ortokindo!  Ortokindo!  Tude's  come  home! — Tude's 
come  home ! "  And  as  though  in  happy  proof  of  this 
latter  assertion,  the  gentle  Mr.  Twiggs  found  his  chubby 
neck  encircled  by  a  pair  of  rosy  arms,  and  felt  upon  his 
cheek  the  sudden  pressure  of  a  pair  of  lips  that  thrilled 
his  old  heart  to  the  core.  And  then  the  noisy  bird 
dropped  from  his  perch  and  marched  pompously  from 
its  place  of  concealment,  trailing  its  rusty  wings  and 
shrieking,  "Tude's  come  home!"  at  the  top  of  its 
brazen  voice. 

"  Shet  up ! "  screamed  Mr.  Twiggs,  with  a  pretended 


"TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS"  89 

gust  of  rage,  kicking  lamely  at  the  feathered  oracle; 
"I'll  ' Tude's-come-home '  ye!  W'y,  a  feller  can't  hear 
his  ears  for  your  infernal  squawkin' !  "  And  then,  turn 
ing  toward  the  serious  eyes  that  peered  rebukingly  into 
his  own,  his  voice  fell  gentle  as  a  woman's :  "  Well, 
there,  Tudens,  I  beg  parding ;  I  do  indeed.  Don't  look 
at  me  thataway.  I  know  I'm  a  great,  rough,  good-for — " 
But  a  warm,  swift  kiss  cut  short  the  utterance ;  and,  as 
the  girl  drew  back,  still  holding  the  bright  old  face  be 
tween  her  tender  palms,  he  said  simply,  "  You're  a  queer 
girl,  Tudens;  a  queer  girl." 

"Ha!  am  I?"  said  the  girl,  in  quite  evident  heroics 
and  quotation,  starting  back  with  a  theatrical  flourish  and 
falling  into  a  fantastic  attitude. — "  '  Troth,  I  am  sorry  for 
it ;  me  poor  father's  heart  is  bursting  with  gratichude, 
and  he  would  fain  ease  it  by  pouring  out  his  thanks  to 
his  benefactor.'  " 

"Werry  good!  Werry  good,  indeed!"  said  Mr. 
Twiggs,  gazing  wistfully  upon  the  graceful  figure  of 
the  girl.  "You're  a-growin*  more  wonderful'  clever 
in  your  'presence'  every  day,  Tude.  You  don't  think 
o*  nothink  else  but  your  actin,' do  ye  now?"  And,  as 
Mr.  Twiggs  concluded  this  observation,  a  something 
very  like  a  sigh  came  faltering  from  his  lips. 

"Why,  listen  there!  Ah-ha!  "  laughed  Tude,  clapping 
her  hands  and  dancing  gaily  around  his  chair. — "  Why, 
you  old  melancholy  Dane,  you!  are  you  actually  sigh 
ing?"  Then,  dropping  into  a  tragic  air  of  deep  con- 


90  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

trition,  she  continued :  ' ' '  But,  believe  me,  I  would  not 
question  you,  but  to  console  you,  Wilford.  I  would 
scorn  to  pry  into  any  one's  grief,  much  more  yours, 
Wilford,  to  satisfy  a  busy  curiosity.'" 

"Oh,  don't  Tude;  don't  rehearse  like  that  at  me!— I 
can't  a-bear  it."  And  the  serious  Mr.  Twiggs  held  out 
his  hand  as  though  warding  off  a  blow.  At  this  ap 
peal  the  girl's  demeanor  changed  to  one  of  tenderest 
solicitude. 

"  Why,  Pop'm,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  "I  did  not  mean  to  vex  you— forgive  me.  I 
was  only  trying  to  be  happy,  as  I  ought,  although  my 
own  heart  is  this  very  minute  heavy — very  heavy — 
very. —  No,  no;  I  don't  mean  that — but,  Father,  Father, 
I  have  not  been  dutiful." 

"  W'y,  yes  you  have,"  broke  in  Mr.  Twiggs,  smother 
ing  the  heavy  exclamation  in  his  handkerchief.  "You 
ain't  been  ondutiful,  nor  nothink  else.  You're  jest  all 
and  everythink  that  heart  could  wish.  It's  all  my  own 
fault,  Tudens;  it's  all  my  fault.  You  see,  I  git  to 
thinkin'  sometimes  like  I  was  a-goin'  to  lose  you ;  and 
now  that  you  are  a-comin'  on  in  years,  and  gittin'  such 
a  fine  start,  and  all,  and  position  and  everythink. — Yes» 
sir!  position,  'cause  everybody  likes  you,  Tudens.  You 
know  that;  and  I'm  that  proud  of  you  and  all,  and  that 
selfish,  that  it's  onpossible  I  could  ever,  ever  give  you 
up  ; — never,  never,  ever  give  you  up !  "  And  Mr.  Twiggs 


' '  TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS  "  91 

again  stifled  his  voice  in  his  handkerchief  and  blew  his 
nose  with  prolonged  violence. 

It  may  have  been  the  melancholy  ticking  of  the  clock, 
as  it  grated  on  the  silence  following,  it  may  have  been 
the  gathering  darkness  of  the  room,  or  the  plaintive 
sighing  of  the  rising  wind  without,  that  caused  the  girl 
to  shudder  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  the  kind  old  face 
bent  forward  in  the  shadows,  and  turned  with  feigned 
gayety  to  the  simple  task  of  arranging  supper.  But 
when,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  announced  that  Twiggs 
and  Tudens'  tea  was  waiting,  the  two  smilingly  sat 
down,  Mr.  Twiggs  remarking,  that  if  he  only  knew  a 
blessing,  he'd  ask  it  upon  that  occasion  most  certainly. 

"—For  only  look  at  these-'ere  'am  and  eggs,"  he  said, 
admiringly:  "I'd  like  to  know  if  the  Queen  herself 
could  cook  'em  to  a  nicer  turn,  or  serve  'em  up  more 
tantalizin'er  to  the  palate.  And  this-'ere  soup,— or  what 
ever  it  is,  is  rich  as  gravy;  and  these  boughten  rolls  ain't 
a  bad  thing  either,  split  in  two  and  toasted  as  you  do  'em, 
air  they,  Tude?"  And  as  Mr.  Twiggs  glanced  inquir 
ingly  at  his  companion,  he  found  her  staring  vacantly  at 
her  plate.  "  I  was  jest  a-sayin',  Tudens—"  he  went  on, 
pretending  to  blow  his  tea  and  glancing  cautiously  across 
his  saucer. 

"  Yes,  Pop'm,  I  heard  you ; — we  really  ought  to  have 
a  blessing,  by  all  means." 

Mr.  Twiggs   put   down   his   tea  without  tasting  it 


92  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

"Tudens,"  he  said,  after  a  long  pause,  in  which  he 
carefully  buttered  a  piece  of  toast  for  the  second  time, — 
"Tudens,  I'm  'most  afeared  you  didn't  grasp  that  last 
remark  of  mine:  I  was  a-sayin' — " 

"  Well — "said  Tudens,  attentively. 

"  I  was  a-sayin',"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  averting  his  face 
and  staring  stoically  at  his  toast ;  "  I  was  a-sayin'  that 
you  was  a-gittin'  now  to  be  quite  a  young  woman." 

"  Oh,  so  you  were,"  said  Tudens,  with  charming 
naivete. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  repentantly,  but  with  a 
humorous  twinkle,  "  if  I  wasn't  a-sayin'  of  it,  I  was 
a-thinkm'  it."— And  then,  running  along  hurriedly,  "and 
I've  been  a-thinkin'  it  for  days  and  days— ever  sence 
you  left  the  'bailey'  and  went  in  'chambermaids,' 
and  last  in  leadin'  roles.  Maybe  you  ain't  noticed  it, 
but  I've  had  my  eyes  on  you  from  the  'flies'  and  the 
'wings;'  and  jest  betwixt  us,  Tudens,  and  not  for  me 
as  ort  to  know  better,  and  does  know  better,  to  go  a- 
flatterin',  at  my  time  o' — or  to  go  a-flatterin'  anybody,  as 
I  said,  after  you're  a-gittin'  to  be  a  young  woman — and 
what's  more,  a  werry  'andsome  young  woman ! " 

"  Why,  Pop'm! "  exclaimed  Tudens,  blushing. 

"  Yes  you  are,  Tudens,  and  I  mean  it,  every  word  of 
it;  and  as  I  was  a-goin'  on  to  say,  I've  been  a-watchin'  of 
you,  and  a-layin'  off  a  long  time  jest  to  tell  you  summat 
that  will  make  your  eyes  open  wider  'an  thatl  What 


"TWIGGS  AKD  TUDENS"  93 

I  mean,"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  coughing  vehemently  and 
pushing  his  chair  back  from  the  table,  "what  I  mean 
is,  you'll  soon  be  old  enough  to  be  a-settin'  up  for  your- 
self-like,  and  marry'— W'y,  Tudens,  what  ails  you  ?  "  The 
girl  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and,  with  a  face  dead  white  and 
lips  all  tremulous,  stood  clinging  to  her  chair  for  sup 
port.  "  What  ails  you,  Tudens  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Twiggs, 
lifting  to  his  feet  and  gazing  on  her  with  a  curious 
expression  of  alarm  and  tenderness. 

"  Nothing  serious,  dear  Pop'm,"  said  Tudens,  with  a 
flighty  little  laugh, — "only  it  just  flashed  on  me  all  at 
once  that  I'd  clear  forgotten  poor  'Dick's'  supper."  And 
as  she  turned  abruptly  to  the  parrot,  cooing  and  clucking 
to  him  playfully, — up,  up  from  some  hitherto  undreamed 
of  depth  within  the  yearning  heart  of  Mr.  Twiggs 
mutely  welled  the  old  utterance,  "  Tude's  a  queer  girl ! " 

"Whatever  made  you  think  of  such  a  thing,  Father?  " 
called  Tudens,  gaily ;  and  then,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  went  on  cooing  to  the  parrot, — "  Hey,  old 
Dickey-bird  !  do  you  think  Tudens  is  a  handsome  young 
woman?  and  do  you  think  Tudens  is  old  enough  to 
marry,  eh  ? "  This  query  delivered,  she  broke  into  a  fit 
of  merriment  which  so  wrought  upon  the  susceptibili 
ties  of  the  bird  that  he  was  heard  to  repeatedly  declare 
and  affirm,  in  most  positive  and  unequivocal  terms,  that 
Tude  had  actually  come  home. 

"Yes— sir,  Tudens!"   broke  in  Mr.  Twiggs  at  last, 


94  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

(  " 

lighting  a  fresh  churchwarden  and  settling  into  his  old 
position  at  the  grate ;  "  have  your  laugh  out  over  it 
now,  but  if  s  a  werry  serious  fact,  for  all  that." 

"  I  know  it,  Father,"  said  the  girl,  recovering  her 
gravity,  turning  her  large  eyes  lovingly  upon  him  and 
speaking  very  tenderly.  "I  know  it — oh,  I  know  it; 
and  many,  many  times  when  I  have  thought  of  it,  and 
then  again  of  your  old  kindly  faith  ;  all  the  warm  wealth 
of  your  love;  and  our  old  home  here,  and  all  the  happi 
ness  it  ever  held  for  me  and  you  alike— oh,  I  have  tried 
hard— indeed,  indeed  I  have— to  put  all  other  thought 
away  and  live  for  you  alone !  But  Pop'm  !  dear  old 
Pop'm— "  And  even  as  the  great  strong  breast  made 
shelter  for  her  own,  the  woman's  heart  within  her 
flowed  away  in  mists  of  gracious  tears. 

"Couldn't  live  without  old  Pop'm,  could  her?"  half 
cried  and  laughed  the  happy  Mr.  Twiggs,  tangling  his 
clumsy  fingers  in  the  long  dark  hair  that  fell  across  his 
arm,  and  bending  till  his  glad  face  touched  her  own. — 
"—Couldn't  live  without  old  Pop'm?" 

"Never!  never!"  sobbed  the  girl,  lifting  her  brim 
ming  eyes  and  gazing  in  the  kind  old  face.  "  Oh,  may 
I  always  live  with  you,  Pop'm?  Always? — Forever  ?"- 

" — And  a  day!"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  emphatically. 

"Even  after  I'm — JJ  and  she  hid  her  face  again. 

"Even  after — what,  Tudens?" 


"TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS"  95 

" After  I'm— after  I'm— married?"  murmured  Tudens, 
with  a  longing  pressure. 

"Nothink  short!"  said  Mr.  Twiggs ;  —  "perwidin'," 
he  added,  releasing  one  hand  and  smoothing  back  his 
scanty  hair — "perwidin',  of  course,  that  your  man  is  a 
honest,  straitforrerd  feller,  as  aint  no  lordly  notions  nor 
nothink  o'  that  sort." 

"Nor  rich?" 

"Well,  I  aint  so  p'ticklar  about  his  bein'  pore,  ad- 
zackly. — Say  a  feller  as  works  for  his  livin',  and  knows 
how  to  'usband  his  earnin's  thrifty-like,  and  allus  'as 
a  hextry  crown  or  two  laid  up  against  a  rainy  day — 
and  a  good  perwider,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  with 
a  comfortable  glance  around  the  room. — "  '11  blow  me  if 
I  didn't  see  a  face  there  a-peerin'  in  the  winder!" 

"  Oh,  no  you  didn't,"  said  the  girl,  without  raising 
her  head.  "Go  on — 'and  a  good  provider — '" 

" — A  good  perwider,"  continued  Mr.  Twiggs;  "and  a 
feller,  of  course,  as  has  a  eye  out  for  the  substantials  of 
this  life,  and  aint  afeard  o'  work — that's  the  idear !  that's 
the  idear!"  said  Mr. Twiggs  by  way  of  sweeping  con 
clusion. 

"And  that's  all  old  Pop'm  asks,  after  all?"  queried 
the  girl,  with  her  radiant  face  yearning  in  his  own. 

"  W'y,  certainly ! "  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  with  heartiness. 
''Aint  that  all  and  everythink  to  make  home  happy? — *'" 


96  "TWIGGS  AND  TUDENS" 

catching  her  face  between  his  great  brown  hands  and 
kissing  her  triumphantly. 

"Hooray  for  Twiggs-and  Twiggs-and  Twiggs-and— " 
cootered  the  drowsy  bird,  disjointedly. 

The  girl  had  risen.— "And  you'll  forgive  me  for  mar 
rying  such  a  man?" 

"Won't  I?"  said  Mr.  Twiggs,  with  a  rapturous 
twinkle. 

As  he  spoke,  she  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
pressed  her  lips  close,  close  against  his  cheek,  her  own 
glad  face  now  fronting  the  little  window.  She  heard 
the  clicking  of  the  latch,  the  opening  of  the  door,  and 
the  step  of  the  intruder  ere  she  loosed  her  hold. 

"God  bless  you,  Pop'm,  and  forgive  me!— This  is 
my  husband."  The  new  comer,  Mr.  Stanley,  reached 
and  grasped  the  hand  of  Mr.  Twiggs,  eagerly,  fervidly, 
albeit  the  face  he  looked  on  then  will  haunt  him  to  the 
hour  of  his  death.— Yet  haply,  some  day,  v/hen  the 
Master  takes  the  self-same  hand  within  his  own  and 
whispers  "  Tude's  come  home,"  the  old  smile  will  return. 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  97 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

Erewhile,  as  Autumn,  to  King  Arthur's  court 
Came  Raelus,  clamouring :   "  Lo,  has  our  house 
Been  sacked  and  pillaged  by  a  lawless  band 
Of  robber  knaves,  led  on  by  Alstanes, 
The  Night-Flower  named,  because  of  her  fair  face, 
All  like  a  lily  gleaming  in  the  dusk 
Of  her  dark  hair— and  like  a  lily  brimmed 
With  dewy  eyes  that  drip  their  limpid  smiles 
Like  poison  out,  for  by  them  has  been  wro't 
My  elder  brother's  doom,  as  much  7  fear. 
While  three  days  gone  was  holden  harvest-feast 
At  Lynion  castle— clinging  like  a  gull 
High  up  the  gray  cliffs  of  Caerleon— 
Came,  leaf-like  lifted  from  the  plain  below 
As  by  a  twisted  wind,  a  rustling  pack 
Of  bandit  pillagers,  with  Alstanes 
Bright-fluttering  like  a  red  leaf  in  the  front. 
And  ere  we  were  aware  of  fell  intent — 
Not  knowing  whether  it  was  friend  or  foe — 
We  found  us  in  their  toils,  and  all  the  house 
In  place  of  guests  held  only  prisoners- 
Save  that  the  host,  my  brother,  wro't  upon 
By  the  strange  beauty  of  the  robber  queen, 


98  AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

Was  left  unfettered,  but  by  silken  threads 

Of  fine-spun  flatteries  and  wanton  smiles 

Of  the  enchantress,  till  her  villain  thieves 

Had  rifled  as  they  willed  and  signal  given 

To  get  to  horse  again.    And  so  they  went — 

Their  leader  flinging  backward,  as  she  rode, 

A  kiss  to  my  mad  brother — mad  since  then,— 

For  from  that  sorry  hour  he  but  talked 

Of  Alstane"s,  and  her  rare  beauty,  and 

Her  purity— aye,  even  that  he  said 

Was  star-white,  and  should  light  his  life  with  love 

Or  leave  him  groping  blindly  in  its  quest 

Thro'  all  eternity.    So,  sighing,  he 

Went  wandering  about  till  set  of  sun, 

Then  got  to  horse,  and  bade  us  all  farewell; 

And  with  his  glamoured  eyes  bent  trancedly 

Upon  the  tumbled  sands  that  marked  the  way 

The  robber-woman  went,  he  turned  and  chased 

His  long  black  shadow  o'er  the  edge  of  night." 

—So  Raelus,  all  seemingly  befret 
With  such  concern  as  nipped  his  utterance 
!n  scraps  of  speech :  at  which  Sir  Lancelot, 
Lifting  a  slow  smile  to  the  King,  and  then 
Turning  his  cool  eye  on  the  youth — "And  you 
Would  track  this  siren-robber  to  her  hold 
And  rout  her  rascal  followers,  and  free 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  99 

Your  brother  from  the  meshes  of  this  queen 

Of   hearts— for  there  you  doubtless    think    him?" 

"Ay!" 

Foamed  Raelus,  cheek  flushed  and  eye  aflame,— 
"So  even  have  I  tracked,  and  found  them,  too, 
And  know  their  burrow,  shrouded  in  a  copse, 
Where,  faring  in  my  brother's  quest,  I  heard 
The  nicker  of  his  horse,  and  followed  on 
And  found  him  tethered  in  a  thicket  wild, 
As  tangled  in  its  tress  of  leaf  and  limb 
As  is  a  madman's  hair ;  and  down  the  path 
That  parted  it   and  ran  across  a  knoll 
And  dipped  again,  all  suddenly  I  came 
Upon  a  cave,  wide-yawning  'neath  a  beard 
Of  tangled  moss  and  vine,  whence  issuing 
I  heard,  blown  o'er  my  senses  faint  and  clear 
As  whiffs  of  summer  wind,  my  brother's  voice 
Lilting  a  love-song,  with  the  burden  tricked 
With  dainty  warblings  of  a  woman's  tongue: 
And  even  as  I  listening  bent,  I  heard 
Such  peals  of  wanton  merriment  as  made 
My  own  heart  flutter  as  a  bird  that  beats 
For  freedom  at  the  bars  that  prison  it. 
So  turned  I  then,  and  fled  as  one  who  flies 
To  save  himself  alone — forgetful  all 
Of  that  my  dearer  self— my  brother.— O  !  "— 
Breaking  as  sharply  as  the  icy  blade 


loo  AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

That  loosens  from  the  eave  to  slice  the  air 
And  splinteT  into  scales  of  flying  frost — 
"  Thy  help !    Thy  help !    A  dozen  goodly  knights — 
Aye,  even  that,  if  so  it  be  their  hearts 
Are  hungry  as  my  own  to  right  the  wrong ! " 

So  Raelus.    And  Arthur  graciously 

Gave  ear  to  him,  and,  patient,  heard  him  thro', 

And  pitied  him,  and  granted  all  he  asked; 

Then  took  his  hand  and  held  it,  saying,  "Strong, 

And  ever  stronger  may  its  grasp  be  knit 

About  the  sword  that  flashes  in  the  cause 

Of  good." 

Thus  Raelus,  on  the  morrow's  front, 
Trapped  like  a  knight  and  shining  like  a  star, 
Pranced  from  the  archway  of  the  court,  and  led 
His  glittering  lances  down  the  gleaming  road 
That  river-like  ran  winding  till  it  slipped 
Out  of  the  palace  view  and  spilled  their  shields 
Like  twinkling  bubbles  o'er  the  mountain  brim. 

Then  happed  it  that  as  Raelus  rode,  his  tongue 
Kept  even  pace  and  cantered  ever  on 
Right  merrily.    His  brother,  as  he  said, 
Had  such  an  idle  soul  within  his  breast — 
Such  shallowness  of  fancy  for  his  heart 
To  drift  about  in— that  he  well  believed 
Its  anchor  would  lay  hold  on  any  smile 


OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  101 

The  lees  of  womanhood  might  offer  him. 
As  for  himself,  he  loved  his  brother  well, 
Yet  had  far  liefer  see  him  stark  and  white 
In  marble  death  than  that  his  veins  should  burn 
With  such  vitality  as  spent  its  flame 
So  garishly  it  knew  no  steady  blaze, 
But  ever  wavered  round  as  veered  the  wind 
Of  his  conceit;  for  he  had  made  his  boast— 
Tho'  to  his  own  shame  did  he  speak  of  it— 
That  with  a  wink  he  could  buy  every  smile 
That  virtue  owned.    So  tattled  Raelus 
Till,  heated  with  his  theme,  he  lifted  voice 
And   sang   the   song,   "The    Light   of    Woman's 
Eyes!" 

"O  bright  is  gleaming  morn  on  mountain  hight; 
And  bright  the  moon,  slipt  from  its  sheath  of  night,— 
But  brighter  is  the  light  of  woman's  eyes. 

"And  bright  the  dewdrop,  trembling  on  the  lip 
Of  some  red  rose,  or  lily  petal-tip, 
Or  lash  of  pink,— but  brighter  woman's  eyes. 

"  Bright  is  the  firefly's  ever  drifting  spark 
That  throbs  its  pulse  of  light  out  in  the  dark ; 
And  bright  the  stars,— but  brighter  woman's  eyes. 


102  AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

"  Bright  morn  or  even ;  bright  or  moon  or  star, 
And  all  the  many  twinkling  lights  that  are, — 
O  brighter  than  ye  all  are  woman's  eyes." 

So  Raelus  sang. — And  they  who  rode  with  him 
Bewildered  were,  and  even  as  he  sang 
Went  straggling,  twos  and  threes,  and  fell  behind 
To  whisper  wonderingly,  "Is  he  a  fool?" 
And  "Does  he  waver  in  his  mind?"  and  "Does 
The  newness  of  adventure  dazzle  him?" 
So  spake  they  each  to  each,  till  far  beyond, 
With  but  one  lothful  knight  in  company, 
They  saw  him  quit  the  beaten  track,  and  turn 
Into  the  grassy  margin  of  a  wood. 
And  loitering,  they  fell  in  mocking  jest 
Of  their  strange    leader!    "See!   why,  seel"  said 
one, — 

"He  needs  no  help  to  fight  his  hornets'  nest, 
But  one  brave  knight  to  squire  him !  "—pointing  on 
To  where  fared  on  the  two  and  disappeared. 

"O    ay!"  said  one,  "belike  he  is  some  old 
War-battered  knight  of  long-forgotten  age, 
That,  bursting  from  his  chrysalis,  the  grave, 
Comes  back  to  show  us  tricks  we  never  dreamed ! " 

"Or  haply,"  said  another,  with  a  laugh,— 

"  He  rides  ahead  to  tell  them  that  he  comes, 
And  shrive  them  ere  his  courage  catches  up." 
And  merry  made  they  all,  and  each  in  turn 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  103 

Fillipped  a  witty  pellet  at  his  head : 

Until,  at  last,  their  shadows  shrunk  away 

And  shortened  'neath  them  and  the  hour  was  noon, 

They  flung  them  from  their  horses  listlessly 

Within  the  grassy  margin  of  the  wood 

Where  had  passed  Raelus  an  hour  agone: 

And,  hungered,  spied  a  rustic ;  and  they  sent 

To  have  them  such  refreshment  as  might  be 

Found  at  the  nearest  farm,— where,  as  it  chanced, 

Was  had  most  wholesome  meat,  and  milk,  and  bread; 

And  honey,  too,  celled  in  its  fretted  vase 

Of  gummy  gold,  and  dripping  nectar-sweet 

As  dreamed-of  kisses  from  the  lips  of  love; 

Wine,  too,  was  broughten,  rosy  as  the  dawn 

That  ushers  in  the  morning  of  the  heart; 

And  tawny,  mellow  pear,  whose  golden  ore 

Fell  molten  on  the  tongue  and  oozed  away 

In  creamy  and  delicious  nothingness; 

And  netted  melon,  musky  as  the  breath 

Of  breezes  blown  from  out  the  Orient; 

And  purple  clusterings  of  plum  and  grape, 

Blurred  with  a  dust  dissolving  at  the  touch 

Like  flakes  the  fairies  had  snowed  over  them. 

And  as  the  idlers  basked,  with  toast  and  song 

And  graceful  dalliance  and  wanton  jest, 

A  sound  of  trampling  hooves  and  jingling  reins 

Brake  sudden,  stilled  them ;  and  from  out  a  dim 


104  AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

Path  leading  from  the  bosky  wood  there  came 
A  troop  of  mounted  damsels,  nigh  a  score, 
Led  by  a  queenly  girl,  in  crimson  clad, 
With  lissome  figure  lithe  and  willowy, 
And  face  as  fair  and  sweet  and  pure  withal 
As  might  a  maiden  lily-blossom  be 
Ere  it  has  learned  the  sin  of  perfect  bloom!: 
Her  hair,  blown  backward  like  a  silken  scarf 
And  fondled  by  the  sun,  was  glossier 
And  bluer  black  than  any  raven's  wing. 
"  And  O ! "  she  laughed,  not  knowing  she  was  heard 
By  any  but  her  fellows:    "Men  are  fools!" 
Then  drawing  rein,  and  wheeling  suddenly, 
Her  charger  mincing  backward,—"  Raelus^ 
My  Raelus  is  greater  than  ye  all, 
Since  he  is  such  a  fool  that  he  forgets 
He  is  a  man,  and  lets  his  tongue  of  love 
Run  babbling  like  a  silly  child's;  and,  pah! 
I  puff  him  to  the  winds  like  thistle-down ! " 
And,  wheeling  as  she  spake,  found  staring  up, 
Wide-eyed  and  wondering,  a  group  of  knights, 
Half  lifted,  as  their  elbows  propped  their  heads, 
Half  lying ;  and  one,  smirker  than  the  rest, 
Stood  bowing  very  low,  with  upturned  eyes 
Lit  with  a  twinkling  smile :    "  Fair  lady — and 
Most  gracious  gentlewomen" — seeing  that 
The  others  drew  them  back  as  tho*  abashed 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  105 

And  veiled  their  faces  with  all  modesty, 

Tho'  she,  their  leader,  showed  not  any  qualm,— 

"  Since  all  unwittingly  we  overheard 
Your  latest  speech,  and  since  we  know  at  last 

'All  men  are  fools,'  right  glad  indeed  am  I 
That  such  a  nest  of  us  remains  for  you 
To  vanquish  with  those  eyes."    Then,  serious, 
That  she  nor  smiled  nor  winced,  nor  anything— 

"  Your  pardon  will  be  to  me  as  a  shower 
Of  gracious  rain  unto  a  panting  drouth." 
So  bowed  in  humblest  reverence;  at  which 
The  damsel,  turning  to  her  followers, 
Laughed  musically,—"  See  !  he  proves  my  words !  " 
Whereat  the  others  joined  with  inward  glee 
Her  pealing  mirth ;  and  in  the  merriment 
The  knights  chimed  too,  and  he,  the  vanquished  one, 
Till  all  the  wood  rang  as  at  hunting-tide 
When  bugle-rumors  float  about  the  air 
And  echoes  leap  and  revel  in  delight. 
Then  spake  the  vanquished  knight,  with  mental  eye 
Sweeping    the   vantage-ground    that    chance    had 
gained, — 

"  Your  further  pardon,  lady :    Since  the  name 
Of  Raelus  fell  from  those  lips  of  thine, 
We  fain  would  know  of  him.    He  led  us  here, 
And  as  he  went  the  way  from  whence  your  path 


lo6  AX  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 


Emerges,  haply  you  may  tell  us  where 
He  may  be  found?" 

"What!  Raelus?"  she  cried,- 
"  He  comes  with  you? — The  brave  Sir  Raelus? — 
That  mighty  champion? — that  gallant  knight? — 
That  peerless  wonder  of  all  nobleness? 
Then  proud  am  I  to  greet  ye,  knowing  that; 
And,  certes,  had  I  known  of  it  ere  now, 
Then  had  I  proffered  you  more  courtesy, 
And  told  you,  ere  the  asking,  that  he  bides 
The  coming  of  his  friends  a  league  from  this, 
Hard  by  a  reedy  mere,  where  in  high  tune 
We  left  him  singing,  nigh  an  hour  agone." 
Then,  as  she  lightly  wheeled  her  horse  about 
And  signal  gave  to  her  companions 
To  follow,  gaily  cried :    "  Tell  Raelus 
His  cousin  sends  to  him  her  sad  farewells 
And  fond  regrets,  and  kisses  many  as 
His  valorous  deeds  are  numbered  in  her  heart." 
And  with  "  Fair  morrow  to  ye,  gentle  knights !  " 
Her  steed's  hooves  struck  the  highway  at  a  bound ; 
And  dimly  thro'  the  dust  they  saw  her  lead 
Her  fluttering  cavalcade  as  recklessly 
As  might  a  queen  of  Araby,  fleet-horsed, 
Skim  o'er  the  level  sands  of  Syria. 
So  vanished.    And  the  knights  with  one  accord 
Put  foot  in  stirrup,  and  with  puzzled  minds 


AN  IDYL  OH  THE  KING  107 

And  many-channeled  marvelings,  filed  in 

The  woody  path,  and  fared  them  on  and  on 

Thro'  denser  glooms,  and  ways  more  intricate; 

Till,  mystified  at  last  and  wholly  lost, 

They  made  full  halt,  and  would   have  turned  them 

back 

But  that  a  sudden  voice  brake  on  their  ears 
All  piteous  and  wailing,  as  distressed : 
And,  following  these  cries,  they  sharply  came 
Upon  an  open  road  that  circled  round 
A  reedy  flat  and  sodden  tract  of  sedge, 
Moated  with  stagnant  water,  crusted  thick 
With  slimy  moss,  wherein  were  wriggling  things 
Entangled,  and  blind  bubbles  bulging  up 
And  bursting  where  from  middle  way  upshot 
A  tree-trunk,  with  its  knarled  and  warty  hands 
As  tho'  upheld  to  clutch  at  sliding  snakes 
Or  nip  the  wet  wings  of  the  dragonfly. 
Here  gazing,  lo !  they  saw  their  comrade,  he 
That  had  gone  on  with  Raelus;  and  he 
Was  tugging  to  fling  back  into  its  place 
A  heavy  log  that  once  had  spanned  the  pool 
And  made  a  footway  to  the  sedgy  flat 
Whence  came  the  bitter  wailing  cries  they  heard. 
Then  hastened  they  to  join  him  in  his  t^sk: 
But,  panting,  as  they  asked  of  Raelus, 
All  winded  with  his  work,  yet  jollier 


io8  AX  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

Than  meadow-lark  at  morn,  he  sent  his  voice 
In  such  a  twittering  of  merriment, 
The  wail  of  sorrow  died  and  laughter  strewed 
Its  grave  with  melody. 

"O  Raelus! 

Rare  Raelus ! "  he  cried  and  clapped  his  hands, 
And  even  in  the  weeds  that  edged  the  pool 
Fell  wrestling  with  his  mirth.— "  Why,  Raelus," 
He  said,  when  he  at  last  could  speak  again, 

"  Drew  magnet-like — you  know  that  talk  of  his, — 
And  so,  adhesive,  did  I  cling  and  cling 
Until  I  found  us  in  your  far  advance, 
And,  hidden  in  the  wood,  I  stayed  to  say 
'Twas  better  we  should  bide  your  coming.    'No.' 
Then  on  again ;  and  still  a  second  time — 

5  Shall  we  not  bide  their  coming?'    'No! 'he  said; 
And  on  again,  until  the  third ;  and  '  No — 
We'll  push  a  little  further.'    As  we  did ; 
And,  sudden,  came  upon  an  open  glade — 
There  to  the  northward, — by  a  thicket  bound : 
Then  he  dismounted,  giving  me  his  rein, 
And,  charging  me  to  keep  myself  concealed, 
And  if  he  were  not  back  a  certain  time 
To  ride  for  you  and  search  where  he  had  gone, 
He  crossed  the  opening  and  passed  from  sight 
Within  the  thicket.    I  was  curious : 
And  so,  dismounting,  tethered  our  two  steeds 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  109 

And  followed  him ;  and,  creeping  warily, 

Came  on  him  where— unseen  of  him— I  saw 

Him  pause  before  the  cave  himself  described 

Before  us  yester-noon.    And  here  he  put 

His  fingers  to  his  lips  and  gave  a  call 

Bird-like  and  quavering :  at  which  a  face, 

As  radiant  as  summer  sun  at  morn, 

Parted  the  viny  courtains  of  the  cave; 

And  then,  a  moment  later,  came  in  view, 

A  woman  even  fairer  than  my  sight 

Might  understand.    'What!  dare  you  come  again? 

As,  lifting  up  her  eyes  all  flashingly, 

She  scorched  him  with  a  look  of  hate.—4  Begone ! 

Or  have  you— traitor,  villain,  knave  and  cur,— 

Bro't  minions  of  the  law  to  carry  out 

The  vengeance  of  your  whimpering  jealousy?* 

Then  Raelus,  all  cowering  before 

Her  queenly  anger,  faltered :  '  Hear  me  yet ; 

I  do  not  threaten.    But  your  love — your  love! — 

O  give  me  that.    I  know  you  pure  as  dew: 

Your  love!    Your  love!— The  smile  that  has  gone 

out 

And  left  my  soul  a  midnight  of  despair  I— 
Your  love  or  life!    For  I  have  even  now 
Your  stronghold  girt  about  with  certain  doom 
If  you  but  waver  in  your  choice.— Your  love!' 
At  which,  as  quick  as  tho't,  leapt  on  him  there 


Iio  AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 


A  strong  man  from  the  covert  of  the  gloom; 
And  others,  like  to  him,  from  here  and  there 
Came  skurrying.    I,  turning,  would  have  fled, 
But  found  myself  as  suddenly  beset 
And  tied  and  tumbled  there  with  Raelus. 
And  him  they  haltered  by  his  squirming  heels 
Until  he  did  confess  such  villainy 
As  made  me  wonder  if  his  wits  were  sound — 
Confessed  himself  a  renegade — a  thief — 
Aye,  even  one  of  them,  save  that  he  knew 
Not  that  nice  honour  even  thieves  may  claim 
Among  themselves. — And  so  ran  on  thro*  such 
A  catalogue  of  littlenesses,  I 
For  deafest  shame  had  even  stopped  my  ears 
But  that  my  wrists  were  lockt.    And  when  he  came 
To  his  confession  of  his  lie  at  court, 
By  which  was  gained  our  knightly  sympathy 
And  valiant  service  on  this  fools'  crusade, 
I  seemed  to  feel  the  redness  of  my  blush 
Soak  thro'  my  very  soul.    There  I  brake  in : 
'"  Fair  lady  and  most  gallant,— to  my  shame 
Do  I  admit  we  have  been  duped  by  such 
An  ingrate  as  this  bundled  lump  of  flesh 
That  I  am  helpless  to  rise  up  and  spurn : 
Unbind  me,  and  I  promise  such  amends 
As  knightly  hands  may  deign  to  wreak  upon 
A  tiling  so  vile  as  he.'    Then,  laughing,  she : 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING  in 

*  First  tell  me,  by  your  honor,  where  await 
Your  knightly  brothers  and  my  enemies.' 
To  which  I  answered,  truthfully,  I  knew 

Not  where  you  lingered,  but  not  close  at  hand 
I  was  assured.    Then  all  abrupt,  she  turned : 

*  Get  every  one  within !    We  ride  at  once  ! ' 
And  scarce  a  dozen  minutes  ere  they  came 
Out-pouring  from  the  cave  in  such  a  guise 
As  made  me  smile  from  very  wonderment. — 
From  head  to  heel  in  woman's  dress  they  came, 
Clad  richly,  too,  and  trapped  and  tricked  withal 
As  maidenly,  but  in  the  face  and  hand, 

As  ever  damsels  flock  at  holiday. 

Then  were  their  chargers  bro't,  caparisoned 

In  keeping ;  and  they  mounted,  lifting  us, 

Still  bounden,  with-  much  jest  and  mockery 

Of  soft  caress  and  wanton  blandishments, 

As  tho'  they  were  of  sex  their  dress  declared. 

And  so  they  carried  us  until  they  came 

Upon  the  road  there  as  it  nicks  the  copse; 

And  so  drew  rein,  dismounted,  leaving  some 

To  guard  their  horses ;  hurried  us  across 

This  footway  to  the  middle  of  the  flat. 

Here  Raelus  was  bounden  to  a  tree, 

Stript  to  the  waist;  my  fetters  cut, 

A  long,  keen  switch  put  in  my  hand,  and  *  Strike  1 

Strike  as  all  duty  bids  you  I '  said  the  queen. 


112  /tN  IDYL  OF  THE  KING 

And  so  I  did,  with  right  good  will  at  first ; 
Till,  softened  as  I  heard  the  wretch's  prayers 
Of  anguish,  I  at  last  withheld  my  hand. 
'What!    tiring?'  chirpt  the  queen:    'Give  me  th$ 

stick!' 

And  swish,  and  swish,  and  mercy  how  it  rained ! 
Then  all  the  others,  forming  circlewise, 
Danced  round  and  round  the  howling  wretch,  and 

jeered 

And  japed  at  him,  and  mocked  and  scoffed  at  him, 
And  spat  upon  him.    And  I  turned  away 
And  hid  my  face;  then  raised  it  pleadingly: 
Nor  would  they  listen  my  appeal  for  him ; 
But  left  him  so,  and  thonged  and  took  me  back 
Across  the  mere,  and  drew  the  bridge,  that  none 
Might  go  to  him,  and  carried  me  with  them 
Far  on  their  way,  and  freed  me  once  again ; 
And  back  I  turned,  tho'  loth,  to  succor  him." 
And  even  as  he  ceased  they  heard  the  wail 
Break  out  anew,  and  crossed  without  a  word, 
And  Raelus  they  found,  and  without  word 
They  loosed  him.    And  he  brake  away  and  ran 
As  runs  a  lie  the  truth  is  hard  upon. 

Thus  did  it  fare  with  Raelus.    And  they 
Who  knew  of  it  said  naught  at  court  of  it; 
Nor  from  that  day  spake  ever  of  him  once, 
Nor  heard  of  him  again,  nor  cared  to  hear. 


DOLORES  113 


DOLORES 

LITHE-ARMED,  and  with  satin-soft  shoulders 
As  white  as  the  cream-crested  wave; 

With  a  gaze  dazing  every  beholder's, 
She  holds  every  gazer  a  slave : 

Her  hair,  a  fair  haze,  is  outfloated 
And  flared  in  the  air  like  a  flame ; 

Bare-breasted,  bare-browed  and  bare- throated— 
Too  smooth  for  the  soothliest  name. 

She  wiles  you  with  wine,  and  wrings  for  you 

Ripe  juices  of  citron  and  grape ; 
She  lifts  up  her  lute  and  sings  for  you 

Till  the  soul  of  you  seeks  no  escape; 
And  you  revel  and  reel  with  mad  laughter. 

And  fall  at  her  feet,  at  her  beck, 
And  the  scar  of  her  sandal  thereafter 

You  wear  like  a  gyve  round  your  neck. 


H4  IV HEN  I  DO  MOCK 


WHEN  I  DO  MOCK 

WHEN  I  do  mock  the  blackness  of  the  night 

With  my  despair— outweep  the  very  dews 

And  wash  my  wan  cheeks  stark  of  all  delight, 

Denying  every  counsel  of  dear  use 

In  mine  embittered  state;  with  infinite 

Perversity,  mine  eyes  drink  in  no  sight 

Of  pleasance  that  nor  moon  nor  stars  refuse 

In  silver  largess  and  gold  twinklings  bright;— 

I  question  me  what  mannered  brain  is  mine 

That  it  doth  trick  me  of  the  very  food 

It  panteth  for— the  very  meat  and  wine 

That  yet  should  plump  my  starved  soul  with  good 

And  comfortable  plethora  of  ease, 

That  I  might  drowse  away  such  rhymes  as  these. 


MY  MARY  IIS 


MY  MARY 

MY  Mary,  O  my  Mary! 

The  simmer-skies  are  blue: 
The  dawnin*  brings  the  dazzle, 

An*  the  gloamin'  brings  the  dew, — 
The  mirk  o'  nicht  the  glory 

O'  the  moon,  an'  kindles,  too, 
The  stars  that  shift  aboon  the  lift.— 

But  nae  thing  brings  me  youl 

Where  is  it,  O  my  Mary, 

Ye  are  biding  a*  the  while? 
I  ha*  wended  by  your  window— 

I  ha'  waited  by  the  stile, 
An*  up  an*  down  the  river 

I  ha'  won  for  mony  a  mile, 
Yet  never  found,  adrift  or  drown'd, 

Your  lang-belated  smile. 

Is  it  forgot,  my  Mary, 

How  glad  we  used  to  be? — 
The  simmer-time  when  bonny  bloomed 

The  auld  try  sting-tree, — 
How  there  I  carved  the  name  for  you, 

An*  you  the  name  for  me; 
An'  the  gloamin'  kenned  it  only 

When  we  kissed  sae  tenderly. 


MY  MARY 


Speek  ance  to  me,  my  Mary! — 

But  whisper  in  my  ear 
As  light  as  ony  sleeper's  breath, 

An*  a'  my  soul  will  hear; 
My  heart  shall  stap  its  beating, 

An*  the  soughing  atmosphere 
Be  hushed  the  while  I  leaning  smile 

An*  listen  to  you,  dear! 

My  Mary,  O  my  Mary! 

The  blossoms  bring  the  bees; 
The  sunshine  brings  the  blossoms, 

An*  the  leaves  on  a'  the  trees? 
The  simmer  brings  the  sunshine 

An'  the  fragrance  o'  the  breeze, — 
But  O  wi'out  you,  Marys 

I  care  nae  thing  for  these! 

We  were  sae  happy,  Mary! 

O  think  how  ance  we  said- 
Wad  ane  o*  us  gae  fickle, 

Or  ane  o'  us  lie  dead, — 
To  feel  anither's  kisses 

We  wad  feign  the  auld  instead, 
An*  ken  the  ither's  footsteps 

In  the  green  grass  owerhead. 


MY  MARY  117 


My  Mary,  O  my  Mary! 

Are  ye  dochter  o'  the  air, 
That  ye  vanish  aye  before  me 

As  I  follow  everywhere?— 
Or  is  it  ye  are  only 

But  a  mortal,  wan  wi*  care?— 
Syne  I  search  through  a*  the  kirkyird 

An'  I  dinna  find  ye  there. 


EROS 

THE  storm  of  love  has  burst  at  last 
Full  on  me:    All  the  world,  before. 
Was  like  an  alien,  unkno-jcn  shore 

Along  whose  verge  I  laughing  passed.-  ••• 
But  now — /  laugh  not  any  more, — 

Bowed  with  a  silence  vast  in  weight 
As  that  which  falls  on  one  who  stands 
For  the  first  time  on  ocean  sands. 

Seeing  and  feeling  alt  the  great 

Awe  of  the  waves  as  they  wash  the  lands 

And  billow  and  wallow  and  undulate. 


(118) 


ORLIE  WILDE 

A  GODDESS,  with  a  siren's  grace,— 
A  sun- bailed  girl  on  a  craggy  place 
Above  a  bay  where  fish-boats  lay 
Drifting  about  like  birds  of  prey. 

Wrought  was  she  of  a  painter's  dream,- 

Wise  only  as  are  artists  wise, 

My  artist-friend,  Rolf  Herschkelhiem, 

With  deep  sad  eyes  of  oversize, 

And  face  of  melancholy  guise. 

I  pressed  him  that  he  tell  to  me 
This  masterpiece's  history. 
He  turned — returned — and  thus  beguiled 
Me  with  the  tale  of  Orlie  Wilde:— 

"We  artists  live  ideally: 
We  breed  our  firmest  facts  of  air; 
We  make  our  own  reality— 
We  dream  a  thing  and  it  is  so. 
The  fairest  scenes  we  ever  see 
Are  mirages  of  memory; 


120  ORLIE  WILDE 


The  sweetest  thoughts  we  ever  know 
We  plagiarize  from  Long-ago: 
And  as  the  girl  on  canvas  there 
Is  marvelously  rare  and  fair, 
;Tis  only  inasmuch  as  she 
Is  dumb  and  may  not  speak  to  me ! " 
He  tapped  me  with  his  mahlstick— then 
The  picture,— and  went  on  again : 

"Orlie  Wilde,  the  fisher's  child— 
!  see  her  yet,  as  fair  and  mild 
As  ever  nursling  summer-day 
Dreamed  on  the  bosom  of  the  bay: 
For  I  was  twenty  then,  and  went 
Alone  and  long-haired—all  content 
With  promises  of  sounding  name 
And  fantasies  of  future  fame, 
And  thoughts  that  now  my  mind  discards 
As  editor  a  fledgling  bard's. 

uAt  evening  once  I  chanced  to  go, 
With  pencil  and  portfolio, 
Adown  the  street  of  silver  sand 
That  winds  beneath  this  craggy  land, 
To  make  a  sketch  of  some  old  scurf 
Of  driftage,  nosing  through  the  surf 
A  splintered  mast,  with  knarl  and  strand 


ORLIE  WILDE  121 


Of  rigging-rope  and  tattered  threads 

Of  flag  and  streamer  and  of  sail 

That  fluttered  idly  in  the  gale 

Or  whipped  themselves  to  sadder  shreds. 

The  while  I  wrought,  half  listlessly, 

On  my  dismantled  subject,  came 

A  sea-bird,  settling  on  the  same 

With  plaintive  moan,  as  though  that  he 

Had  lost  his  mate  upon  the  sea; 

And — with  my  melancholy  trend — 

It  brought  dim  dreams  half  understood — 

It  wrought  upon  my  morbid  mood, — 

I  thought  of  my  own  voyagings 

That  had  no  end — that  have  no  end.— 

And,  like  the  sea-bird,  I  made  moan 

That  I  was  loveless  and  alone. 

And  when  at  last  with  weary  wings 

It  went  upon  its  wanderings, 

With  upturned  face  I  watched  its  flight 

Until  this  picture  met  my  sight: 

A  goddess,  with  a  siren's  grace, — 

A  sun-haired  girl  on  a  craggy  place 

Above  a  bay  where  fish-boats  lay 

Drifting  about  like  birds  of  prey. 

"In  airy  poise  she,  gazing,  stood 
A  matchless  form  of  womanhood, 


122  ORLIE  WILDE 


That  brought  a  thought  that  if  for  me 
Such  eyes  had  sought  across  the  sea, 
I  could  have  swam  the  widest  tide 
That  ever  mariner  defied, 
And,  at  the  shore,  could  on  have  gone 
To  that  high  crag  she  stood  upon, 
To  there  entreat  and  say  'My  Sweet, 
Behold  thy  servant  at  thy  feet.' 
And  to  my  soul  I  said:  'Above, 
There  stands  the  idol  of  thy  love  \ ' 

"In  this  rapt,  awed,  ecstatic  state 
I  gazed— till  lo!  I  was  aware 
A  fisherman  had  joined  her  there — 
A  weary  man,  with  halting  gait, 
Who  toiled  beneath  a  basket's  weight: 
Her  father,  as  I  guessed,  for  she 
Had  run  to  meet  him  gleefully 
And  ta'en  his  burden  to  herself, 
That  perched  upon  her  shoulder's  shc'f 
So  lightly  that  she,  tripping,  neared 
A  jutting  crag  and  disappeared; 
But  left  the  echo  of  a  song 
That  thrills  me  yet,  and  will  as  long 
As  I  have  being ! 

"  Evenings  came 

And  went,— -but  each  the  same— the  same; 


ORLIE  WILDE  123 


She  watched  above,  and  even  so 
I  stood  there  watching  from  below; 
Till,  grown  so  bold  at  last,  I  sung,-— 
(What  matter  now  the  theme  thereof!)— 
It  brought  an  answer  from  her  tongue- 
Faint  as  the  murmur  of  a  dove, 
Yet  all  the  more  the  song  of  love .... 

"I  turned  and  looked  upon  the  bay, 
With  palm  to  forehead— eyes  a-blur 
In  the  sea's  smile— meant  but  for  her  1— • 
\  saw  the  fish-boats  far  away 
In  misty  distance,  lightly  drawn 
In  chalk-dots  on  the  horizon — 
Looked  back  at  her,  long,  wistfully,— 
And,  pushing  off  an  empty  skiff, 
I  beckoned  her  to  quit  the  cliff 
And  yield  me  her  rare  company 
Upon  a  little  pleasure  cruise. — 
She  stood,  as  lothful  to  refuse- 
To  muse  for  full  a  moment's  time.— 
Then  answered  back  in  pantomime 

'  She  feared  some  danger  from  the  sea 
Were  she  discovered  thus  with  me." 
I  motioned  then  to  ask  her  if 
1  might  not  join  her  on  the  cliff; 
And  back  again,  with  graceful  wave 


124  ORLIE  WILDE 


Of  lifted  arm,  she  answer  gave 
1  She  feared  some  danger  from  the  sea.' 

"Impatient,  piqued,  impetuous,  I 
Sprang  in  the  boat,  and  flung  'Good-bye1 
From  pouted  mouth  with  angry  hand, 
And  madly  pulled  away  from  land 
With  lusty  stroke,  despite  that  she 
Held  out  her  hands  entreatingly : 
And  when  far  out,  with  covert  eye 
I  shoreward  glanced,  I  saw  her  fly 
In  reckless  haste  adown  the  crag, 
Her  hair  a-flutter  like  a  flag 
Of  gold  that  danced  across  the  strand 
In  little  mists  of  silver  sand. 
All  curious  I,  pausing,  tried 
To  fancy  what  it  all  implied,— 
When  suddenly  I  found  my  feet 
Were  wet;  and,  underneath  the  seat 
On  which  I  sat,  I  heard  the  sound 
Of  gurgling  waters,  and  I  found 

The  boat  aleak  alarmingly 

I  turned  and  looked  upon  the  sea, 
Whose  every  wave  seemed  mocking  me; 
I  saw  the  fishers'  sails  once  more— 
In  dimmer  distance  than  before; 
I  saw  the  sea-bird  wheeling  by, 


ORLIE  WILDE  125 


With  foolish  wish  that  /  could  fly: 
I  thought  of  firm  earth,  home  and  friends— 
I  thought  of  everything  that  tends 
To  drive  a  man  to  frenzy  and 
To  wholly  lose  his  own  command; 
I  thought  of  all  my  waywardness- 
Thought  of  a  mother's  deep  distress ; 
Of  youthful  follies  yet  unpurged— 
Sins,  as  the  seas,  about  me  surged — 
Thought  of  the  printer's  ready  pen 
Tomorrow  drowning  me  again ; — 
A  million  things  without  a  name — 
I  thought  of  everything  but — Fame. . . . 

"A  memory  yet  is  in  my  mind, 
So  keenly  clear  and  sharp-defined, 
I  picture  every  phase  and  line 
Of  life  and  death,  and  neither  mine, — 
While  some  fair  seraph,  golden-haired, 
Bends  over  me, — with  white  arms  bared, 
That  strongly  plait  themselves  about 
My  drowning  weight  and  lift  me  out — 
With  joy  too  great  for  words  to  state 
Or  tongue  to  dare  articulate ! 

"And  this  seraphic  ocean-child 
And  heroine  was  Orlie  Wilde: 
And  thus  it  was  I  came  to  hear 


126  ORLIE  WILDE 


Her  voice's  music  in  my  ear — 

Aye,  thus  it  was  Fate  paved  the  way 

That  I  walk  desolate  today!" 

The  artist  paused  and  bowed  his  face 

Within  his  palms  a  little  space, 

While  reverently  on  his  form 

\  bent  my  gaze  and  marked  a  storm 

That  shook  his  frame  as  wrathfully 

As  some  typhoon  of  agony, 

And  fraught  with  sobs — the  more  profound 

For  that  peculiar  laughing  sound 

We  hear  when  strong  men  weep 1  lent 

With  warmest  sympathy— I  bent 
To  stroke  with  soothing  hand  his  brow, 
He  murmuring— "Tis  over  now!— 
And  shall  I  tie  the  silken  thread 
Of  my  frail  romance?"    "Yes,"  1  said.— 
He  faintly  smiled ;  and  then,  with  brow 
In  kneading  palm,  as  one  in  dread — 
His  tasseled  cap  pushed  from  his  head;— 
" '  Her  voice's  music,1  I  repeat," 

He  said,— "'twas  sweet— O  passing  sweet !- 
Though  she  herself,  in  uttering 
Its  melody,  proved  not  the  thing 
Of  loveliness  my  dreams  made  meet 
For  me— there,  yearning,  at  her  feet— 


ORLIE  WILDE  127 


Prone  at  her  feet — a  worshiper, — 
For  lo !  she  spake  a  tongue,"  moaned  he, 
"Unknown  to  me; — unknown  to  me 
As  mine  to  her— as  mine  to  her." 


128  LEON  A  IN  IE 


LEONAINIE 

LEONAINIE— Angels  named  her; 

And  they  took  the  light 
Of  the  laughing  stars  and  framed  her 
In  a  smile  of  white; 

And  they  made  her  hair  of  gloomy 
Midnight,  and  her  eyes  of  bloomy 
Moonshine,  and  they  brought  her  to  me 
In  the  solemn  night— 

In  a  solemn  night  of  summer, 

When  my  heart  of  gloom 
Blossomed  up  to  greet  the  comer 
Like  a  rose  in  bloom ; 

All  forebodings  that  distressed  me 
I  forgot  as  Joy  caressed  me — 
{Lying  Joy !  that  caught  and  pressed  me 
In  the  arms  of  doom !) 

Only  spake  the  little  lisper 

In  the  Angel-tongue; 
Yet  I,  listening,  heard  her  whisper— 
"Songs  are  only  sung 

Here  below  that  they  may  grieve  you— 
Tales  but  told  you  to  deceive  you, — 
So  must  Leonainie  leave  you 
While  her  love  is  young.*1 


LEON4INIE  129 


Then  God  smiled  and  it  was  morning. 

Matchless  and  supreme , 
Heaven's  glory  seemed  adorning 
Earth  with  its  esteem : 

Every  heart  but  mine  seemed  gifted 
With  the  voice  of  prayer,  and  lifted 
Where  my  Leonainie  drifted 
From  me  like  a  dream. 


130  TO  A  JILTED  SWAM 


TO  A  JILTED  SWAIN 

GET  thee  back  neglected  friends; 
And  repay,  as  each  one  lends, 
Tithes  of  shallow-sounding  glee 
Or  keen-ringing  raillery: 
Get  thee  from  lone  vigils ;  be 
But  in  jocund  company, 
Where  is  laughter  and  acclaim 
Boisterous  above  the  name.— 
Get  where  sulking  husbands  sip 
Alehouse  cheer,  with  pipe  at  lip; 
And  where  Mol  the  barmaid  saith 
Curst  is  she  that  marry  eth. 


THE  VOICES  131 


THE  VOICES 

DOWN  in  the  night  I  hear  them : 
The  Voices — unknown — unguessed, — 

That  whisper,  and  lisp,  and  murmur, 
And  will  not  let  me  rest. — 

Voices  that  seem  to  question, 

In  unknown  words,  of  me, 
Of  fabulous  ventures,  and  hopes  and  dreams 

Of  this  and  the  World  to  be. 

Voices  of  mirth  and  music, 

As  in  sumptuous  homes ;  and  sounds 
Of  mourning,  as  of  gathering  friends 

In  country  burial-grounds. 

Cadence  of  maiden  voices — 

Their  lovers'  blent  with  these; 
And  of  little  children  singing, 

As  under  orchard  trees. 

And  often,  up  from  the  chaos 

Of  my  deepest  dreams,  I  hear 
Sounds  of  their  phantom  laughter 

Filling  the  atmosphere: 


THE  VOICES 


They  call  to  me  from  the  darkness ; 

They  cry  to  me  from  the  gloom, 
Till  I  start  sometimes  from  my  pillow 

And  peer  through  the  haunted  room ; 

When  the  face  of  the  moon  at  the  window 

Wears  a  pallor  like  my  own, 
And  seems  to  be  listening  with  me 

To  the  low,  mysterious  tone, — 

The  low,  mysterious  clamor 

Of  voices  that  seem  to  be 
Striving  in  vain  to  whisper 

Of  secret  things  to  me  ;— 

Of  a  something  dread  to  be  warned  of; 

Of  a  rapture  yet  withheld ; 
Or  hints  of  the  marvelous  beauty 

Of  songs  unsyllabled. 

But  ever  and  ever  the  meaning 

Falters  and  fails  and  dies, 
And  only  the  silence  quavers 

With  the  sorrow  of  my  sighs. 


THE  VOICES  133 


And  I  answer:— O  Voices,  ye  may  not 

Make  me  to  understand 
Till  my  own  voice,  mingling  with  you, 

Laughs  in  the  Shadow-land. 


A  BAREFOOT  BOY 

A  BAREFOOT  BOY  I  I  mark  him  at  his  play- - 
For  May  is  here  once  more,  and  so  is  he,-  • 
His  dusty  trousers,  rolled  half  to  the  knee, 

And  his  bare  ankles  grimy,  too,  as  they: 

Cross-hatchings  of  the  nettle,  in  array 
Of  feverish  stripes,  hint  vividly  to  me 
Of  -woody  pathways  winding  endlessly 

Along  the  creek,  where  w.i  yesterday 

He  plunged  his  shrinking  body — gasped  and  shook— 
Yet  called  the  water  "warm,"  with  never  lack 

Of  joy.     And  so,  half  vmously  I  look 

Upon  this  graceless  I  refoot  and  his  track, — 
His  toe  stubbed — aye,  his  big  toe-nail  knocked  back 

Like  unto  tbe  clmp  of  an  old  pocket-book. 


THE  YOUTHFUL  PATRIOT 

O  WHAT  did  the  little  boy  do 
5 At  nobody  wanted  him  to? 
Didn't  do  nothin'  but  romp  an*  run, 
An1  whoop  an'  holler  an1  bang  his  gun 
An*  bust  fire-crackers,  an'  ist  have  fun— 
An1  'at's  all  the  little  boy  done! 


I3<5  PONCHUS  PILUT 


PONCHUS  PILUT 

PONCHUS  PILUT  used  to  be 

1st  a  Slave,  an*  now  he's  free. 

Slaves  wuz  on'y  ist  before 

The  War  wuz—  an'  ain't  no  more. 

He  works  on  our  place  fer  us,— 
An*  comes  here—  sometimes  he  does. 
He  shocks  corn  an*  shucks  it  —  An1 
He  makes  hominy  "  by  han'  !  "  — 

Wunst  he  bringed  us  some,  one  trip, 
Tied  up  in  a  piller-slip: 
Pa  says,  when  Ma  cooked  it,  "MY  I 
This-here's  gooder'n  you 


Ponchus  pats  fer  me  an*  sings  ; 
An*  he  says  most  funny  things  ! 
Ponchus  calls  a  dish  a  "deesh"  — 
Yes,  an'  he  calls  fishes  "feesk"l 

When  Ma  want  him  eat  wiv  us 
He  says,  "  'Skuse  me  —  'deed  you  mus*  !— 
Ponchus  know  good  manners,  Miss.  — 
He  aint  eat  wher'  White-folks  is!" 


PONCHUS  PILUT  137 

'Lindy  takes  his  dinner  out 
Wher'  he's  workin'— roun'  about. — 
Wunst  he  et  his  dinner,  spread 
In  our  ole  wheel-borry-bed. 

Ponchus  Pilut  says  "  'at's  not 
His  right  name, — an'  done  fergot 
What  his  shot-miff  name  is  now — 
An'  don*  matter  none  wohow!" 

Yes,  an*  Ponchus  he'ps  Pa,  too, 
When  our  butcheries  to  do, 
An'  scalds  hogs— an'  says  "  Take  care 
'Bout  it,  er  you'll  set  the  hair!" 

Yes,  an'  out  in  our  back-yard 
He  he'ps  'Lindy  rendur  lard; 
An',  wite  in  the  fire  there,  he 
Roasf  a  pig-tail  wunst  fer  me. — 

An'  'ist  nen  th'ole  tavurn-bell 

Rung,  down  town,  an'  he  says  "Well!  — 

Hear  dat!  Lan*  o*  Caanan,  Son, 

Aint  dat  bell  say  *  Pig-tail  done!9 

— *  Pig-tail  done! 
Go  call  Son  /— 
Tell  dat 
Chile  dat 
Pig-tail  done!9* 


13*  A  TWINTORETTE 


A  TWINTORETTE 

HO!  my  little  maiden 

With  the  glossy  tresses, 
Come  thou  and  dance  with  ma 

A  measure  all  divine; 
Let  my  breast  be  laden 

With  but  thy  caresses- 
Come  thou  and  glancingly 
Mate  thy  face  with  mine. 

Thou  shalt  trill  a  rondel, 

While  my  lips  are  purling 
Some  dainty  twitterings 

Sweeter  than  the  birds'; 
And,  with  arms  that  fondle 
Each  as  we  go  twirling, 
We  will  kiss,  with  titterings. 
Lisps  and  loving  words. 


SLUMBER-SONG  139 


SLUMBER-SONG 

SLEEP,  little  one!  The  Twilight  folds  her  gloom 

Full  tenderly  about  the  drowsy  Day, 
And  all  his  tinseled  hours  of  light  and  bloom 
Like  toys  are  laid  away. 

Sleep!  sleep!    The  noon-sky's  airy  cloud  of  white 

Has  deepened  wide  o'er  all  the  azure  plain ; 
And,  trailing  through  the  leaves,  the  skirts  of  Night 
Are  wet  with  dews  as  rain. 

But  rest  thou  sweetly,  smiling  in  thy  dreams, 

With  round  fists  tossed  like  roses  o'er  thy  head, 
And  thy  tranc'd  lips  and  eyelids  kissed  with  gleams 
Of  rapture  perfected. 


140  THE  CIRCUS  PARADE 


THE  CIRCUS  PARADE 

THE  CIRCUS !— The  Circus !— The  throb  of  the  drums, 
And  the  blare  of  the  horns,  as  the  Band-wagon  comes ; 
The  clash  and  the  clang  of  the  cymbals  that  beat, 
As  the  glittering  pageant  winds  down  the  long  street ! 

In  the  Circus  parade  there  is  glory  clean  down 
From  the  first  spangled  horse  to  the  mule  of  the  Clown, 
With  the  gleam  and  the  glint  and  the  glamour  and  glare 
Of  the  days  of  enchantment  all  glimmering  there ! 

And  there  are  the  banners  of  silvery  fold 
Caressing  the  winds  with  their  fringes  of  gold, 
And  their  high-lifted  standards,  with  spear-tips  aglow, 
And  the  helmeted  knights  that  go  riding  below. 

There's  the  Chariot,  wrought  of  some  marvelous  shell 
The  Sea  gave  to  Neptune,  first  washing  it  well 
With  its  fabulous  waters  of  gold,  till  it  gleams 
Like  the  galleon  rare  of  an  Argonaut's  dreams 

And  trie  Elephant,  too,  (with  his  undulant  stride 
That  rocks  the  high  throne  of  a  king  in  his  pride), 
That  in  jungles  of  India  shook  from  his  flanks 
The  tigers  that  leapt  from  the  Jujubee-banks. 


THE  CIRCUS  PARADE  141 


Here's  the  long,  ever-changing,  mysterious  line 
Of  the  Cages,  with  hints  of  their  glories  divine 
From  the  barred  little  windows,  cut  high  in  the  rear, 
Where  the  close-hidden  animals'  noses  appear. 

Here's  the  Pyramid-car,  with  its  splendor  and  flash, 
And  the  Goddess  on  high,  in  a  hot-scarlet  sash 
And  a  pen-wiper  skirt ! — O,  the  rarest  of  sights 
Is  this  "  Queen  of  the  Air  "  in  cerulean  tights  ! 

Then  the  far-away  clash  of  the  cymbals,  and  then 
The  swoon  of  the  tune  ere  it  wakens  again 
With  the  capering  tones  of  the  gallant  cornet 
That  go  dancing  away  in  a  mad  minuet. 

The  Circus  ! — The  Circus  ! — The  throb  of  the  drums, 
And  the  blare  of  the  horns,  as  the  band-wagon  comes  ; 
The  clash  and  the  clang  of  the  cymbals  that  beat, 
As  the  glittering  pageant  winds  down  the  long  street. 


142  FOLKS  AT  LONESOMEWLLE 


FOLKS  AT  LONESOMEVILLE 

PORE-FOLKS  lives  at  Lonesomeville— 

Lawzy!  but  they're  pore! 
Houses  with  no  winders  in, 

And  hardly  any  door: 
Chimbly  all  tore  down,  and  no 

Smoke  in  that  at  all — 
1st  a  stovepipe  through  a  hole 

In  the  kitchen-wall! 

Pump  that's  got  no  handle  on; 

And  no  woodshed — And,  wooh!— 
Mighty  cold  there,  choppin7  wood, 

Like  pore-folks  has  to  do! — 
Winter-time,  and  snow  and  sleet 

1st  fairly  fit  to  kill  !— 
Hope  to  goodness  Santy  Clous 

Goes  to  Lonesomeville ! 


THE  THREE  JOLLY  HUNTERS  143 


THE  THREE  JOLLY  HUNTERS 

O  THERE  were  three  jolly  hunters; 

And  a-hunting  they  did  go, 
With  a  spaniel-dog,  and  a  pointer-dog, 

And  a  setter-dog  also. 

Looky  there! 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed; 

And  the  first  thing  they  did  find 
Was  a  dingling-dangling  hornet's-nest 

A-swinging  in  the  wind. 

Looky  there ! 

And  the  first  one  said— "What  is  it?" 

Said  the  next,  "We'll  punch  and  see:" 
And  the  next  one  said,  a  mile  from  there, 
"I  wish  we'd  let  it  be!" 

Looky  there  1 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  raise 
Was  a  bobbin*  bunnie  cotton-tail 

That  vanished  from  their  gaze. 
Looky  there! 


144  THE  THREE  JOLLY  HUNTERS 

One  said  it  was  a  hot  baseball, 
Zippt  through  the  brambly  thatch, 

But  the  others  said  'twas  a  note  by  post, 
Or  a  telegraph-dispatch. 

Looky  there ! 

So  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  sight 
Was  a  great  big  bulldog  chasing  them, 

And  a  farmer,  hollerin'  "Skite!" 
Looky  there! 

And  the  first  one  said,  "  Hi-jinktum  I  " 
And  the  next,  "Hi-jinktum-jee!" 

And  the  last  one  said,  "Them  very  words 
Had  just  occurred  to  me ! 

Looky  there!" 


THE  LITTLE  DOG-WOGGY  145 


THE  LITTLE  DOG-WOGGY 

A  LITTLE  Dog-Woggy 
Once  walked  round  the  World: 
So  he  shut  up  his  house;  and,  forgetting 

His  two  puppy-children 
Locked  in  there,  he  curled 
Up  his  tail  in  pink  bombazine  netting, 
And  set  out 
To  walk  round 
The  World. 

He  walked  to  Chicago, 
And  heard  of  the  Fair — 
Walked  on  to  New  York,  where  he  never, - 

In  fact,  he  discovered 
That  many  folks  there 
Thought  less  of  Chicago  than  ever, 
As  he  musing- 
Ly  walked  round 
The  World. 

He  walked  on  to  Boston, 
And  round  Bunker  Hill, 
Bow-wowed,  but  no  citizen  heered  him — 

Till  he  ordered  his  baggage 
And  called  for  his  bill, 


146  THE  LITTLE  DOG-WOGGY 

And  then,  bless  their  souls !  how  they  cheered 

him, 

As  he  gladly 
Walked  on  round 

The  World. 

He  walked  and  walked  on 
For  a  year  and  a  day- 
Dropped  down  at  his  own  door  and  panted, 

Till  a  teamster  came  driving 
Along  the  highway 

And  told  him  that  house  there  was  ha'nted 
By  the  two  starve- 
Dest  pups  in 
The  World. 


CHARMS  147 


CHARMS 
I 

FOR  CORNS  AND  THINGS 

PRUNE  your  corn  in  the  gray  of  the  morn 

With  a  blade  that's  shaved  the  dead, 
And  barefoot  go  and  hrde  it  so 

The  rain  will  rust  it  red: 
Dip  your  foot  in  the  dew  and  put 

A  print  of  it  on  the  floor, 
And  stew  the  fat  of  a  brindle  cat, 
And  say  this  o'er  and  o'er: — 
Corny!  morny!  bladey!  dead! 
Gorey !  sorey !  rusty !  red ! 
Footsy!  putsy!  floory!  stew! 
Fatsy!  catsy! 

Mew! 
Mew! 

Come  grease  my  corn 
In  the  gray  of  the  morn! 
Mew!  Mewi  Mewl 


148  CHARMS 


II. 

TO  REMOVE  FRECKLES— SCOTCH  ONES 

GAE  the  mirkest  night  an*  stan' 

Twixt  twa  graves,  ane  either  han' ; 

Wi'  the  right  han'  fumblin'  ken 

Wha  the  deid  mon's  name's  ance  ben,— 

Wi'  the  ither  han'  sae  read 

Wha's  neist  neebor  o'  the  deid  ; 

An  it  be  or  wife  or  lass, 

Smoor  the  twa  han's  i'  the  grass, 

Weshin'  either  wi'  the  ither, 

Then  the  faice  wi'  baith  thegither; 

Syne  ye'll  seeket  at  cock-craw — 

Ilka  freckle's  gang  awa ! 


A  FEW  OF  THE  BIRD-FAMILY  149 


A  FEW  OF  THE  BIRD-FAMILY 

THE  Old  Bob-White,  and  Chipbird; 

The  Flicker  and  Chee-wink, 
And  little  hopty-skip  bird 

Along  the  river-brink. 

The  Blackbird,  and  Snowbird, 
The  Chicken-hawk,  and  Crane ; 

The  glossy  old  black  Crow-bird, 
And  Buzzard  down  the  lane. 

The  Yellow-bird,  and  Redbird, 
The  Tom-Tit,  and  the  Cat ; 

The  Thrush,  and  that  Redhead-bird 
The  rest's  all  pickin'  at! 

The  Jay-bird,  and  the  Bluebird, 
The  Sap-suck,  and  the  Wren— 

The  Cockadoodle-doo-bird, 
And  our  old  Settin'-hen  ! 


150  THROUGH  SLEEPY-LAND 


THROUGH  SLEEPY-LAND 

WHERE  do  you  go  when  you  go  to  sleep, 

Little  Boy!  Little  Boy!  where? 
'Way— 'way  in  where's  Little  Bo-Peep, 
And  Little  Boy  Blue,  and  the  Cows  and  Sheep 

A-wandering  'way  in  there— in  there— 
A-wandering  'way  in  there! 

And  what  do  you  see  when  lost  in  dreams, 

Little  Boy,  'way  in  there? 
Firefly-glimmers  and  glowworm-gleams, 
And  silvery,  low,  slow-sliding  streams, 

And  mermaids,  smiling  out— 'way  in  where 
They're  a-hiding— 'way  in  there! 

Where  do  you  go  when  the  Fairies  call, 

Little  Boy!  Little  Boy!  where? 
Wade  through  the  dews  of  the  grasses  tall, 
Hearing  the  weir  and  the  waterfall 

And  the  Wee  Folk— 'way  in  there— in  there— 
And  the  Kelpies— 'way  in  there  1 


THROUGH  SLEEPY-LAND  151 

And  what  do  you  do  when  you  wake  at  dawn, 
Little  Boy!  Little  Boy!  what? 

Hug  my  Mommy  and  kiss  her  on 

Her  smiling  eyelids,  sweet  and  wan, 
And  tell  her  everything  I've  forgot 
About,  a-wandering  'way  in  there — 
Through  the  blind-world  'way  in  there! 


152          THE  TRESTLE  AND  THE  BUCK-SAW 


THE  TRESTLE  AND  THE  BUCK-SAW 

THE  Trestle  and  the  Buck-Saw 

Went  out  a-walking  once, 
And  staid  away  and  staid  away 

For  days  and  weeks  and  months : 
And  when  they  got  back  home  again, 

Of  all  that  had  occurred, 
The  neighbors  said  the  gossips  said 

They  never  said  a  word. 


THE  KING  OF  OO-RINKTUM-JING  153 


THE  KING  OF  OO-RINKTUM-JING 

DAINTY  Baby  Austin! 

Your  Daddy's  gone  to  Boston 

To  see  the  King 

Of  Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And  the  whale  he  rode  acrost  on ! 

Boston  Town's  a  city: 
But  O  its  such  a  pity!— 

They'll  greet  the  King 

Of  Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
With  never  a  nursery  ditty! 

But  me  and  you  and  Mother 
Can  stay  with  Baby-brother, 

And  sing  of  the  King 

Of  Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And  laugh  at  one-another! 

So  what  cares  Baby  Austin 
If  Daddy  has  gone  to  Boston 

To  see  the  King 

Of  Oo-Rinktum-Jing 
And  the  whale  he  rode  acrost  on? 


154  THE  TOY  PENNY-DOG 


THE  TOY  PENNY-DOG 

MA  put  my  Penny-Dog 

Safe  on  the  shelf, 
And  left  no  one  home  but  him, 

Me  and  myself; 
So  I  climbed  a  big  chair 

I  pushed  to  the  wall- 
But  the  Toy  Penny-Dog 

Aint  there  at  all ! 
I  went  back  to  Dolly — 

And  she  'uz  gone  too, 
And  little  Switch  'uz  layin*  there ; — 

And  Ma  says  "Boo!"— 
And  there  she  wuz  a-peepin7 

Through  the  front-room  door: 
And  I  aint  goin*  to  be  a  bad 

Little  girl  no  more! 


JARGON-JINGLE  155 


JARGON-JINGLE 

TAWDERY !— faddery !  Feathers  and  fuss ! 
Mummery! — flummery!  wusser  and  wuss! 
All  o*  Humanity — Vanity  Fair! — 
Heaven  for  nothin',  and — nobody  there  1 


156  THE  GREAT  EXTLORER 


THE  GREAT  EXPLORER 

HE  sailed  o'er  the  weltery  watery  miles 

For  a  tabular  year-and-a-day, 
To  the  kindless,  kinkable,  Cannibal  Isles 

He  sailed  and  he  sailed  away  ! 
He  captured  a  loon  in  a  wild  lagoon 

And  a  yak  that  weeps  and  smiles, 
And  a  bustard-bird,  and  a  blue  baboon, 

In  the  kindless  Cannibal  Isles 
And  wilds 
Of  the  kinkable  Cannibal  Isles. 

He  swiped  in  bats  with  his  butterfly-net, 

In  the  kinkable  Cannibal  Isles, 
And  got  short-waisted  and  over-het 

In  the  haunts  of  the  crocodiles ; 
And  nine  or  ten  little  Pigmy  Men 

Of  the  quaintest  shapes  and  styles 
He  shipped  back  home  to  his  old  Aunt  Jenn, 

From  the  kindless  Cannibal  Isles 
And  wilds 
Of  the  kinkable  Cannibal  Isles. 


THE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAYORITE  157 


THE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE 


the  river  and  through  the  wood 
Now  Grandmother's  cap  I  spy  : 
Hurrah  for  the  fun  !    Is  the  pudding  done  ? 
Hurrah  for  the  pumpkin-pie  ! 

—SCHOOL  READER. 

PER  any  boy  'at's  little  as  me, 

Er  any  little  girl, 
That-un's  the  goodest  poetry-piece 

In  any  book  in  the  worl'  ! 
An*  ef  grown-peoples  wuz  little  ag'in 

I  bet  they'd  say  so,  too, 
Ef  they'd  go  see  their  ole  Gran  'ma, 

Like  our  Pa  lets  us  do! 

Over  the  river  an*  through  the  -wood 

Now  Grandmother's  cap  I  spy  : 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun  !  —  Is  the  puddin*  done  ?  — 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie  ! 

An1  '11  tell  you  why  'at's  the  goodest  piece: 

'Cause  if  s  ist  like  we  go 
To  our  Gran  'ma's,  a-visitun  there, 
When  our  Pa  he  says  so; 


158  THE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAYORITE 

An*  Ma  she  fixes  my  little  cape-coat 

An*  little  fuzz-cap ;  an*  Pa 
He  tucks  me  away— an'  yells  "Hoo-ray!" — 
An*  whacks  Ole  Gray,  an*  drives  the  sleigh 

Fastest  you  ever  saw! 

Over  the  river  an1  through  the  wood 
Now  Grandmother's  cap  I  spy  : 

Hurrah  fer  the  fun  I — Is  the  puddin1  done  ? — 
Hurrah  for  the  punkin-pie  ! 

An*  Pa  ist  snuggles  me  'tween  his  knees — 

An'  I  he'p  hold  the  lines, 
An*  peek  out  over  the  buifalo-robe  ;— 
An'  the  wind  ist  blows! — an'  the  snow  ist  snows!- 

An'  the  sun  ist  shines!  an'  shines!— 
An*  th'  ole  horse  tosses  his  head  an'  coughs 

The  frost  back  in  our  face.— 
An'  I'  ruther  go  to  my  Gran'ma's 

Than  any  other  place! 

Over  the  river  an*  through  the  wood 

Now  Gran'mother's  cap  I  spy : 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun  ! — Is  the  puddin'  done  ?— 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie! 


fHE  SCHOOLBOY'S  FAVORITE  159 

An1  all  the  peoples  they  is  in  town 

Watches  us  whizzin'  past 
To  go  a-visitun  our  Gran'ma's, 

Like  we  all  went  there  last;- 
But  they  can't  go,  like  1st  our  folks 

An*  Johnny  an*  Lotty,  an*  three 
Er  four  neighber-childerns,  an'  Rober-ut  Volney 

An*  Charley  an*  Maggy  an*  me! 

Over  the  river  an9  through  the  wood 

Now  Grandmother's  cap  I  spy: 
Hurrah  fer  the  fun! — Is  the  puddin*  done? 

Hurrah  fer  the  punkin-pie  ! 


&6o  ALBUMAMA 


ALBUMANIA 

Some  certain  misty  yet  tenable  signs 

Of  the  oracular  Raggedy  Man, 
Happily  found  in  these  fugitive  lines 

Culled  from  the  album  of  'Li^abutb  Ann. 

FRIENDSHIP 

0  FRIENDSHIP,  when  I  muse  on  you, 
As  thoughtful  minds,  O  Friendship,  do, 

1  muse,  O  Friendship,  o'er  and  o'er, 
O  Friendship — as  I  said  before. 

LIFE 

"WHAT  is  Life?"  If  the  Dead  might  say, 

'Spect  they'd  answer,  under  breath, 
Sorry-like  yet  a-laughin' :— A 
Poor  pale  yesterday  of  Death! 

LIFE'S  HAPPIEST  HOURS 
BEST,  I  guess, 

Was  the  old  "Recess"— 
'Way  back  there's  where  I'd  love  to  be— 

Shet  of  each  lesson  and  hateful  rule, 
When  the  whole  round  World  was  as  sweet  to  me 

As  the  big  ripe  apple  I  brung  to  School. 


ALBUMANIA  161 


MARION-COUNTY  MAN  HOMESICK  ABROAD 

1»  who  had  hob-nobbed  with  the  shades  of  kings, 

And  canvassed  grasses  from  old  masters*  graves, 
And  in  cathedrals  stood  and  looked  at  things 

In  niches,  crypts  and  naves  ;— 
My  heavy  heart  was  sagging  with  its  woe, 

Nor  Hope  to  prop  it  up,  nor  Promise,  nor 
One  woman's  hands— and  O  I  wanted  so 

To  be  felt  sorry  for ! 

BIRDV!   BlRDY! 

THE  Redbreast  loves  the  blooming  bough— 

The  Bluebird  loves  it  same  as  he;— 
And  as  they  sit  and  sing  there  now, 

So  do  I  sing  to  thee — 
Only,  dear  heart,  unlike  the 

I  do  not  climb  a  tree 
To  sing— 

I  do  not  climb  a  tree* 


WHEN  o'er  this  page  in  happy  years  to  come, 
Thou  jokest  on  these  lines  and  on  my  name, 

Doubt  not  my  love  and  say,  "Though  he  lies  dumb, 
He's  lying,  just  the  same!'5 


162  THE  LITTLE  MOCK-MAX 


THE  LITTLE  MOCK-MAN 

THE  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs- 
He  mocks  the  lady's  horse  'at  rares 

At  bi-sickles  an*  things, — 
He  mocks  the  mens  'at  rides  'em,  too; 
An'  mocks  the  Movers,  drivin'  through, 
An'  hollers  "Here's  the  way  you  do 

With  them-air  hitchin-strings ! " 

"Ho!  ho!"  he'll  say, 
Ole  Settlers'  Day, 

When  they're  all  jogglin*  by, — 

"  You  look  like  this," 
He'll  say,  an*  twis* 

His  mouth  an'  squint  his  eye 
An'  'tend  like  he  wuz  beat  the  bass 

Drum  at  both  ends — an'  toots  and  blares 
Ole  dinner-horn  an'  puffs  his  face— 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs! 

The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs 
Mocks  all  the  peoples  all  he  cares 

'At  passes  up  an*  down ! 
He  mocks  the  chickens  round  the  door, 
An*  mocks  the  girl  'at  scrubs  the  floor, 
An1  mocks  the  rich,  an*  mocks  the  pore, 
An'  ever'thing  in  town! 


THE  LITTLE  MOCK-MAN  163 

"Ho!  ho!"  says  he, 

To  you  er  me; 
An1  ef  we  turns  an'  looks, 

He's  all  cross-eyed 

An*  mouth  all  wide 
Like  Giunts  is,  in  books. — 
"  Ho  I  ho !  "  he  yells,  "  look  here  at  me," 

An7  rolls  his  fat  eyes  roun'  an*  glares,— 
"You  look  like  this!"  he  says,  says  he — 
The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs! 

THE  Little  Mock— 
The  Little  Mock— 

The  Little  Mock-man  on  the  Stairs, 

He  mocks  the  music-box  an?  clock, 

An*  roller-sofy  an9  the  chairs; 
He  mocks  his  Pa  an*  spec's  he  -wears; 
He  mocks  the  man  'at  picks  the  pears 
An1  plums  an1  peaches  on  the  shares ; 
He  mocks  the  monkeys  an*  the  bears 
On  picture-bills,  an*  rips  an1  tears 
%Em  down, — an1  mocks  ist  all  he  cares, 
An* 


164  SUMMER-TIME  AND  WINTER-TIME 


SUMMER-TIME  AND  WINTER-TIME 

IN  the  golden  noon-shine, 
Or  in  the  pink  of  dawn ; 

In  the  silver  moonshine, 
Or  when  the  moon  is  gone: 

Open  eyes,  or  drowsy  lids, 
'Wake  or  'most  asleep, 

I  can  h^ar  the  kitydids, — 

"Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!" 

Only  in  the  winter-time 

Do  they  ever  scop, 
In  the  chip-and-splinter-time, 

When  the  backlogs  pop,— 
Then  it  is,  the  kettle-lids, 

While  the  sparkles  leap, 
Lisp  like  the  katydids,— 
"Cheep!  Cheep!  Cheep!" 


HOME-MADE  RIDDLES  165 

HOME-MADE  RIDDLES 
ALL  BUT  THE  ANSWERS 


NO  one  ever  saw  it 

Till  I  dug  it  from  the  ground; 
I  found  it  when  I  lost  it, 

And  lost  it  when  I  found: 
I  washed  it,  and  dressed  it, 

And  buried  it  once  more — 
Dug  it  up,  and  loved  it  then 

Better  than  before. 
I  was  paid  for  finding  it— 

1  don't  know  why  or  how, — 
But  I  lost,  found,  and  kept  it, 

And  haven't  got  it  now. 

II 

Sometimes  it's  all  alone — 

Sometimes  in  a  crowd; 
it  says  a  thousand  bright  things, 

But  never  talks  aloud. 
Everbody  loves  it, 

And  likes  to  have  it  call, 


166  HOME-MADE  RIDDLES 

But  if  you  shouldn't  happen  to, 
It  wouldn't  care  at  all. 

First  you  see  or  hear  of  it, 
It's  a-singing,— then 

You  may  look  and  listen, 
But  it  never  sings  again. 


THE  LOYELY  CHILD  167 


THE  LOVELY  CHILD 

LILIES  are  both  pure  and  fair, 
Growing  midst  the  roses  there- 
Roses,  too,  both  red  and  pink, 
Are  quite  beautiful,  I  think. 

But  of  all  bright  blossoms— best- 
Purest— fairest— loveliest, — 
Could  there  be  a  sweeter  thing 
Than  a  primrose,  blossoming? 


THE  YELLOW-BIRD 


THE  YELLOW-BIRD 

HEY !  my  little  Yellow-bird, 

What  you  doing  there? 
Like  a  flashing  sun-ray, 

Flitting  everywhere: 
Dangling  down  the  tall  weeds 

And  the  hollyhocks, 
And  the  lordly  sunflowers 

Along  the  garden-walks. 

Ho!  my  gallant  Golden-bill, 

Pecking  'mongst  the  weeds, 
You  must  have  for  breakfast 

Golden  flower-seeds: 
Won't  you  tell  a  little  fellow 

What  you  have  for  tea  ?— 
'Spect  a  peck  o*  yellow,  mellow 

Pippin  on  the  tree. 


ENVOY  169 


ENVOY 

WHEN  but  a  little  boy,  it  seemed 
My  dearest  rapture  ran 

In  fancy  ever,  when  I  dreamed 
I  was  a  man — a  man  I 

Now— sad  perversity !— my  theme 

Of  rarest,  purest  joy 
Is  when,  in  fancy  blest,  I  dream 

I  am  a  little  boy. 


UN1VKKSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   LIBBAB1 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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JUL  36 


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